The Right Thing to Do
by BelleFolie
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been waiting his whole life to go to Hogwarts and live the dream. But it turns out to be a nightmare when he is sorted in Gryffindor house. Battling with his family, fighting to make friends with the people he has been brought up to hate and struggling to be accepted, Draco has to question what defines him and what is the right thing to do.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I: Sorting Hat

The faint face of the Sorting Hat creased. McGonagall glanced around the room, tapping her wand on the edge of the parchment in her hand. Her eyes met Dumbledores'. His bushy eyebrows raised just a fraction, an undeniable glint behind the half-moon spectacles. The Hat seemed to squirm on the young boy's head, as if it had gone to say a house and then changed its mind.

McGonagall looked at the names on the list to where she was currently at. Malfoy, Draco. To be sorted into Slytherin, no doubt, just like his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, all the way back to the dawn of time. The small boy's forehead crinkled, his pale eyebrows edging closer together with each passing second. His fingers slipped down the side of the stool and curled around its rough edges.

McGonagall's eyes flitted to a small, gold watch wrapped around her thin wrist. Two minutes. She looked back at Dumbledore, who still seemed thoroughly unconcerned. Her sharp eyes passed along the other teachers at the table… Trelawney, Quirrell, Snape. The latter was already staring at her, his black eyes round and uncomprehending. Still unsorted? his gaze seemed to say; Draco Malfoy. The son of the infamous death eaters Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, sister to Azkaban inmate Bellatrix Lestrange.

McGonagall gave a rapid, half shrug. It was as much a mystery to her as it was to him. She tapped her wand impatiently on the parchment, hoping the Hat would get the idea. Her gaze drifted across the hall. The other first years exchanged nervous looks— whether because they had recognised his name or because they were afraid they would be sat there for so long, she could not tell.

Some older students caught her eye. "Sit down, if you please, O'Malley," she called, and a lanky Slytherin boy with a mess of blonde hair rolled his eyes and dropped into his seat. "That goes for you two too, Weasleys," she said, nodding at the ginger twins on the other side of the hall.

She turned back to her list, but as she did so, she saw Draco staring up at her. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but her thin lips turned it into something of a grimace.

There was noticeable consternation amongst the teachers now. Flitwick fiddled nervously with the corner of his napkin, and Hagrid's hand had gone unconsciously to his beard. Even Dumbledore had finally recognised something was amiss. He was leaning forwards in his seat, his eyes peering through his spectacles.

Draco shifted in his seat, his feet barely brushing the cold flagstones. His eyes darted to the Slytherin table on the far left.

McGonagall checked her watch. Almost five minutes. She pursed her lips, tapping her thumb nail against the fir wood of her wand.

The Hat twisted on top of Draco's fair head. Then it opened up, as a clam shell revealing a pearl, and exploded: "Gryffindor!"

The hall fell silent. Draco was motionless. A few muggle-born students, mostly first years, looked round curiously, wondering why no one was clapping. Snape froze, his eyes fixed blankly on the back of Draco's head. Some faint muttering drifted over from the Slytherin table.

Even McGonagall didn't move, rooted to the spot. The incomprehensible, the unimaginable, had just happened. She glanced at Dumbledore. He was leaning back in his seat, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He caught her eye and nodded at the boy. She looked down.

Draco was staring up at her. His breathing was rapid and shallow. "Congratulations, Mr Malfoy," she said loudly, her throat somewhat dry. She raised her hands and clapped a few times. A smattering of applause broke out across the Gryffindor table. Fred and George Weasley, who had slowly risen up, sat down again, their hands firmly stuffed inside their robes.

McGonagall leant forwards and gingerly lifted the Hat off his head. Underneath, his pale hair was ruffled, and his cheeks were red. From where she stood, McGonagall could see him quivering.

Shakily, Draco stepped down from the stool. The crowd of first years parted to let him through. No one at the Gryffindor table cheered. The applause had almost died out. No one stood to shake his hand. He froze for a moment, his eyes darting from one to the other.

"Well don't just stand there," the Weasley twins said in unison.

Percy Weasley nodded at the end of the table. "You might as well sit down now you're here."

Draco took the hint. He shuffled awkwardly onto the end of the bench, facing the wall, his head bent down, staring at neither the Gryffindors nor the unsorted students, just the empty seat and blank wall opposite him.

Student after student was sorted. All the other houses were noticeably quieter in their applause, although the Gryffindors seemed to cheer louder with every new student, offering them handshakes and hi-fives, encouraging them to sit with them.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

"Gryffindor!"

The lanky ginger boy almost collapsed in relief, staggering from the stool to the table. The Gryffindor table cheered loudly this time, relieved that normality, and now their spirits, had been restored. Their mood lightened after this, and the cloud that was Draco Malfoy seemed to disappear from their sunny mindsets.

"Potter, Harry!"

The room fell to another deathly silence. Despite himself, Draco turned his head and glanced up. The famous Harry Potter. Thin as an old broom and twice as scrawny, with his hair that stuck out uncontrollably, and his spindly, saucer like glasses. For another minute, the hall waited in silence, the teachers again exchanging nervous glances. Would he be like his parents? A movement from the Hat caught everyone's attention. The entire hall held its breath.

"Slytherin!" The far table exploded. Crabbe and Goyle sprang to their feet. Pansy Parkinson rushed over to him and, taking him by the hand, led him to a place on the bench in the midst of the throng. O'Malley jumped onto the bench and thumped the air, shouting, "Whoop, whoop, whoop!" More students ran from further down the table to congratulate him, shake his hand, touch his robes.

Draco turned away, staring once more at the empty bench opposite him. He winced as McGonagall saw the final student and the Hat shouted one last time. "Slytherin!"

Once the clamour had died down, Dumbledore rose and spoke a few words. Draco ignored him. There was only one thing that mattered now. What life was there for him at Hogwarts if he wasn't in Slytherin?

Food appeared out of nowhere, fresh and steaming, making his eyes water. The other Gryffindors edged away from him, leaving three large dishes all to himself. But he couldn't eat. He felt disgusted, like he would be sick if he ate anything. His stomach turned over and over. His heart was beating slower than it had earlier, but he could feel every beat like a blow to his chest.

"Draco Malfoy?"

He raised his head. The bench opposite him was no longer unoccupied. A girl with enormous amounts of bushy hair and huge front teeth was watching him nervously. She looked like a hamster that had been given an electric shock. He went to smile, relieved that someone had come to talk to him. But then he flinched. "What?" He snapped. "Come to taunt me, have you? Come to make fun of me?"

"No," the girl replied, slightly taken aback. She shook her head and adopted a bossy sort of tone. "I thought you might like to come and eat with us."

"With you?" She nodded. "Why would I want to do that?"

She stared at him incredulously. "You are hungry, aren't you? How couldn't you be hungry?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't want to eat anything now."

"Well if you're not hungry now you'll certainly be hungry later."

"Don't I recognise you?" He frowned. "You were on the train, looking for a frog or something."

"It was a toad, actually," she corrected him, "for a boy named Neville. He's over there." She pointed, but Draco didn't look. "Look, you might as well join us, you're going to have to make friends so you might as well get on and do it."

"Make friends with who? _You?_ " He regretted it almost as soon as he said it. He could tell from her expression that he'd offended her. He opened his mouth to apologise, but it just flapped uselessly.

"Well, not if you don't want to," she said stiffly, "there's Neville, or Seamus, or Lavender, or Dean, or Ron—"

"Not the Weasley kid?" It came out before he could stop it.

She stared at him incredulously. "I don't know why you have to be so rude," she said, "I'm just trying to help. They all seem like perfectly lovely people, but as for you, I'm not so sure." She got up and marched back to her original seat.

Draco's eyes followed her as she went. The entire section of the table she was sitting at— the Weasleys included— were glaring at him over their plates.

His cheeks flushed an angry red and he turned away. His heart pounded inside his chest. He looked down at his hands. There was a small splinter embedded in his finger from where he'd gripped a particularly sharp bit of the stool. He passed the whole of the dessert course trying to pull it out, but to no avail.

"First years, follow me and keep up!" Percy Weasley called, leading the way out of the great hall. Draco shuffled along at the back, his head down, aware that the whole of the hall was watching him. "Keep up at the back!" Percy called.

A sharp elbow in his back sent Draco stumbling forwards.

"Watch where you're going, Malfoy!" One of the twins jeered at him. "Yeah, watch it, blondie!" The other jibed. "Third years coming through."

"Now the password," Percy announced at the picture to the Fat Lady, "is Caput Draconis. Be sure not to forget it, or you won't be allowed in."

"And don't stay out too late!" The Fat Lady cried, "Some of us need our beauty sleep!"

Percy ignored her. "I'll give you all your timetables on the way in, then wait for me in the common room."

One by one, the students filed past him, taking their timetables. Draco was the last. "Ah." Percy looked down at him through his horn-rimmed spectacles. "Malfoy."

Draco reached out and took the sheet from Percy's thin, bony hand. It was a plain sheet of paper, but even as Draco watched, the boxy shape of a timetable appeared with flourishing writing stating the days and subjects that he was to attend.

"Go in," Percy muttered tersely, nodding his head sharply towards the Gryffindor common room. Draco hesitated, his foot faltering over the threshold.

"I'm not sure…"

Percy glared at the back of the blond head. "Hurry up, Malfoy. I'm not waiting forever."

Draco tried to lick his dry lips, but his tongue was even drier. Percy sighed impatiently and pushed past him, marching into the common room.

Draco hesitated on the step. His heart quickened as he peered inside. He shouldn't be here. He should be outside the Slytherin common room, with its green lit tinge, rough stone walls, hidden underneath the lake.

"Are you going in or not?" the portrait of the Fat Lady demanded.

Draco jumped, but nodded sheepishly, despite being out of her view. His foot, clad in a smart, polished shoe, stepped across the threshold.

The Gryffindor common room was round, with a few alcoves and nooks. A roaring fireplace dominated one side of the room, an enormous carving of a lion on the mantelpiece. Several squashy, almost collapsed, red armchairs and sofas were crowded around the fire and tables. A couple of portraits stared down at the first years, inspecting them with beady eyes. Golden chandeliers emanating a warm light hung from the high ceiling, seemingly suspended in mid-air.

The older students had already arrived. They were crushed onto the sofas, either squeezing onto the seats, balancing on the arms, or lying across the back. Their eyes landed on Draco as he entered. His heart sprang to his mouth, clenching his hands into fists to hide their shaking.

"Boys on the left, girls to the right," Percy stated loudly, pointing at a small staircase set into the wall. "Your suitcases should already be there."

The group split, some staying to read the bulletin or talk to older siblings already in Gryffindor.

His timetable clutched in his hand, Draco slipped away, moving to the staircase behind the girl with the bushy hair and her friend. A couple of older Gryffindors were coming the other way, and stepped aside to allow the girls to pass. Draco tried to go up after them, but the Gryffindors cut in front of him. Draco stumbled backwards down the steps, letting them pass before trying again.

The boys' dormitory was deserted. He checked the labels of the suitcases until he found his at the back of the room. The bedspreads were a deep shade of red, and the curtains were much the same, only heavier, designed to shut out the light. A mirror on the wall caught his eye. Did he dare look? Curiosity got the better of him.

His pointed face was even more pale than usual. His hair that his mother had slicked back that morning was ruffled, with strands sticking out from behind his ears, so wispy that they appeared white. His grey eyes were round and his chin quivered. Unable to continue looking, he dropped his gaze. It fell to his bedside table. On top was a lamp, an empty glass and neatly folded clothes. He reached forwards and picked up the top item. A Gryffindor tie. The red and gold colours burned against his palm. His lip curled. His fists pounded it into a ball and threw it with all his energy at the wall. It got no further than the edge of the bed. Draco kicked the oak four poster bed. He gasped, his toes stinging. Tears burst into his eyes. His breathing quickened and he sank to the floor.

What would his father say if he saw him now? Don't cry, Draco, it's undignified. No son of a Malfoy would be so weak as to let his feelings show.

Draco shuddered. Desperate not to cry, he drove his fingernails into his skin, gritting his teeth.

Footsteps on the stairs made him start. He jumped to his feet and turned his back to the door.

The footsteps stopped as the person entered. Draco didn't turn around. The footsteps carried on, cautiously. Draco wiped his nose with his sleeve, trying to act natural.

"You alright?"

Draco span round. Ron Weasley. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, pulling on the woollen cover on his bed.

"Fine," Draco said shortly, "why do you ask?"

Ron seemed unable to hold eye contact. "I was just… You know. Gryffindor. Bit of a shock. For you. Well for all of us, actually. Fred and George—"

"I'm fine!" Draco repeated loudly. "I don't need you or anyone else to help me. Just wait till my father hears about this! He won't stand for it! A Malfoy in Gryffindor. He'll sort this out all right. He'll tell Dumbledore. Just you wait and see! I'll be in Slytherin by next week."

Ron stared at him. He tried to nod, but it was nothing more than a lift of the chin. "Right. Sure." Ron walked backwards towards the stairs, as if afraid to turn his back on Draco.

Draco himself raised his chin defiantly, a small smile on his lips. Ron disappeared out the dormitory. Draco's smile lingered for a moment, but then faded. It felt fake. Draco took a deep breath, before sinking onto the bed. He kicked off his polished shoes and drew the curtains around him, hiding in the darkness. He lay down on the bed, his teeth gritted, his chin trembling as he tried to control his erratic breathing and his heart that hammered against his rib cage.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II: Teachers' Panic

"Albus!" McGonagall rushed into Dumbledore's office, her bony hands clutching the heavy door.

"Minerva," Dumbledore replied cheerfully, "I assume you're here for the same reason as Severus?"

McGonagall's eyes flitted to the dark man— whom she had not previously noticed— seated opposite Dumbledore.

"Y-yes," she faltered, "well I presume so. Why else would we be here, apart from Harry Potter?"

"Quite," Snape said, "but I feel there is another student whom we cannot fail to pay attention to."

McGonagall shut the door and hastened over to them. "Well yes, what about poor Draco Malfoy?"

"Indeed," Snape said, "I feel that we will be dealing with a particularly difficult visit from Lucius in due course."

"He won't stand for it, Albus, he won't!" McGonagall said earnestly, approaching the desk.

"He will insist that the boy change houses," Snape added.

"Well that is obviously out of the question," McGonagall said firmly.

"Is it?" Snape asked, "The Malfoys will insist that the boy comes under my care."

"How can we refuse a family like the Malfoys?"

"There hasn't been a Malfoy in Gryffindor for over 400 years."

"Over 400 years?" McGonagall exclaimed, "My dear Severus, I seriously doubt that there has ever been a Malfoy in Gryffindor. Ever!"

Dumbledore stared at them both with an amused glint in his eye.

"Well anyway, we're talking about the wrong boy." McGonagall waved the conversation about Malfoy away with one, spindly hand. She leant forwards dramatically. "Harry Potter."

Snape rolled his eyes. "That boy," he muttered.

"Yes, that boy," McGonagall said fiercely, "what about him? Both James and Lily were in Gryffindor. Now Harry is in Slytherin. Why? What possible reason is there that the hat could place him in Slytherin?" Her icy glare fell onto the hat, perched silently on one of the shelves.

"Many things," Dumbledore replied simply. Both professors stared at him.

"Many things?" McGonagall demanded, her voice almost shrill. "What things?"

The door behind her creaked open. Hagrid's red face appeared. "I'm… I'm sorry Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid began, "I… I didn't want teh interrupt, but I had to… Y'see, Harry Potter can't be sorted into Slytherin! His parents were Gryffindors, an' such a lovely lad yer've never met."

"You barely know him yourself," Snape interrupted.

"But if he's anything like James and Lily then he will be a charming young boy," McGonagall said. She turned to Snape. "You know this. Weren't you at school with James and Lily?"

"If he's anything like his mother, then yes, he will be."

"But Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid cried, "Harry don't belong in Slytherin. He's a Gryffindor through an' through! He's got bravery, talent—"

"As do many Slytherins, Hagrid," Dumbledore reminded him. Snape gave a thin-lipped nod.

"But the majority of witches an' wizards who went bad were in Slytherin," Hagrid protested.

"I agree, headmaster," Snape said, suddenly, "Potter did not survive the killing curse to befriend the Dark Lord but to vanquish him."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Now, the person tha' should be in Slytherin," Hagrid started.

"We cannot allow him to remain in Gryffindor," McGonagall said, "why can't we just swap the boys?"

"That's not how the hat works." Dumbledore's chair scraped against the flagstones as he rose.

"No." Hagrid shook his head. "No. Professor, can't yeh see tha' Harry needs to be taken care of in a secure, lovin' place?"

"Which is not, from what I understand, where you left him eleven years ago." Snape's black eyes turned to Hagrid. The latter's mouth opened furiously, his cheeks turning scarlet.

"The blame for which I regrettably take," Dumbledore interrupted. He stopped underneath the shelf where the hat sat. This curious object, that seemed to know far more than the rest of them did— and Dumbledore liked to think that he knew quite a bit— never ceased to surprise him. Pleasantly, sometimes. And other times…

"Albus?"

He turned around. "Oh sorry, Minerva, were you saying something?"

She gave him a look somewhere between impatience and sympathy. "What will you do?"

"The only thing there is teh do!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"Which is leave them where they are." Dumbledore turned to face them all. They stared at him.

Snape rose noiselessly from his seat. "Professor, if I may—"

"My mind is made up," Dumbledore said simply, "You may all return to your rooms and sleep soundly."

"Sleep soundly?" McGonagall's voice became even shriller. "But how, how can we sleep soundly knowing Harry Potter is in Slytherin and Draco Malfoy is in Gryffindor? Lucius Malfoy—"

"I will deal with Lucius Malfoy when he comes," Dumbledore said, "for now, it is settled." McGonagall opened her mouth to protest. "Go and rest, Minerva," he said firmly, "all of you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Draco left the house early, as early as he could, head down, face white, heart pounding after his feet as he hastened down to the great hall. He took his breakfast alone, realising he couldn't starve himself every day, especially not since he was used to the large dinners that their house elf cooked at home. The other early rising Gryffindors sat away from him, throwing him the occasional glare.

Draco tried not to let it bother him. He gathered his books he had taken with him to avoid returning to the tower, and set off for the Owlery. He wanted to avoid going back to the Gryffindor Tower as much as possible. It was a humiliation. Besides, once his father heard, he would never need to return there again.

The Owlery was deserted. He climbed the stairs to the first floor, his original plan being to go right to the top, but fatigue stopped him. He placed the books on the floor and stretched his arms. "Stupid books," he muttered, "why do they make us have so many?" He raised his eyes and scanned the walls for his owl, a tawny, sleek and swift, that had been given to him by his mother for his birthday. All manner of owls perched around him, one with a broken beak, another with uneven eyes and one that stared straight back at him. This last one was as white as snow, its feathers soft and flecked with black markings.

Draco smiled. "Hello," he said, "you're a very lovely owl. Why didn't mum buy me you? Who do you belong to, I wonder?" He stepped forwards, wanting to get a better look at the snowy beauty. His foot caught on one of the books and he staggered, almost falling over his own robe, before righting himself. The owl was still watching him. "Well what are you looking at?" he snapped. The owl turned away, disinterested.

Draco kicked the books with his shoe, although somewhat more gently than how he had kicked the bed post the previous night.

"Pulchra. Pulchra!" His voice rung throughout the Owlery. Seconds later, a large, genteel owl swooped down from on high to land on his arm. Draco grinned. "Good girl," he praised her, feeding her something unknown that he had picked up from breakfast.

Setting her upon a ledge next to him, he produced a piece of parchment and a quill, and proceeded to write to his father. But Pulchra refused to share the ledge. Draco pushed her with his arm, but she wouldn't budge. "Move," he muttered, "get out of the way. Stupid bird." Snatching the letter from the ledge, he crashed onto the uneven floor and scribbled ferociously, ink sticking to his hand and spreading across the parchment. But at last, the letter was finished. He rolled it up tightly and strapped it to her leg. "You take this to my father," he said sternly, "no getting side-tracked like last time. Straight there, understand?" He marched over to the window and launched her into the air. She gathered herself and beat her large, powerful wings, soaring through the air, gaining speed. Draco watched until she was out of sight, lost in the clouds and mountains, before starting the long, slippery trek back to the castle.

He had been gone longer than he had thought. Never having approved of the idea of running to class, he walked stately, if slightly rushed, to his first lesson of the day. Potions.

Professor Snape was less than pleased at his arrival. The old door at the back of the class creaked open, and the little blond boy, who was noticeable only by his absence, entered in. Snape broke off mid-sentence.

Draco stopped. "I'm sorry I'm late, Professor."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps you, Mr Malfoy, could tell me the answer to my question." Draco hesitated. "What would I get if I mixed an infusion of wormwood to powdered root of asphodel?"

Draco's stomach churned. Heads swivelled to look at him. "Poison?"

"Incorrect." Snape gestured sharply at the last seat available, next to the bushy haired girl. Draco took a deep breath and sat down next to her, directly in front of Snape. The girl looked away as he sank into the rickety chair. "But if it's any consolation, the famous Mr Potter did not get it either." He turned back to face the class. His eyes fell on the enormous pile of books on Draco's desk. He sighed. "Mr Malfoy, to save the little strength in your muscles and in order that you may see what goes on in my lessons, I would ask you to remove your books from your desk and to preferably leave them behind in your dormitory between lessons when you do not have need of…" He was standing in front of him, staring down his hooked nose at the top book. "A History of Magic."

A few sniggers erupted from the room. Draco's cheeks flushed. He grabbed the top ones and placed them by his feet.

"Not there." Snape pointed with his wand. "Tripping hazard." With a sharp flick of his wand, the books tucked themselves under Draco's feet. Snape swept up to stand behind his own desk, clapping his hands loudly and smartly for silence. "This lesson is not a practical one; you will, however, have need of a partner."

Draco's heart sank as he caught sight of a few brown curls out the corner of his eye. "I guess we'll—"

"Silence!" Snape barked. "Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger, partner up. No wands, Mr Finnigan, or have you not been paying attention?" He plucked the short wand out of the stocky wizard's hand before returning to his perch at the front of the class. "I shall write the exercises on the board. Answer them, with the help of your textbook. If anyone has failed to bring their textbook to class I shall see them tomorrow lunchtime in detention. But I'm sure that Mr Malfoy will have one to spare." He smirked.

Snape raised his wand and words appeared in an elegant, flowing script on the blackboard. There were ten questions, with only half an hour to complete them.

"You take the first five, I'll take the last five," Granger whispered to him.

"Aren't we working together?" Draco asked.

She hesitated. "Well… We can check answers."

With a heavy sigh, Draco started his set of questions, flicking through the book to find the answers. But as it turned out, this was not such a simple task as it appeared. Counting, equations and multiple ingredients with different effects had be taken into consideration— the formula for creating a happiness draught was not as simple as it looked.

He glanced at Granger's parchment, and saw that she had almost finished. Draco looked back at his own, three questions in, and with only five minutes to spare.

"Uh, Granger," he muttered, "Number Three… I'm just a little stuck. Could you…"

She glanced up, her wild hair and front teeth making her look ever more like a rabbit. "Let me see." She took the book from him. "But this is easy!" She said after a moment. "Pure blood wizard, how could you not know this?"

Draco frowned. He snatched the book back. "Of course I know it," he retorted, "I just misunderstood the question, that's all." He gave her a suspicious glance. "Are you not a pure blood then?"

She gave a confident shake of her head. "My parents are muggles."

Draco's lip curled. "Muggles? You're a muggle born?"

She beamed. "My parents are so proud."

Draco opened his mouth, but Snape's piercing voice cut through the air. "Time's up. Anyone who hasn't finished: I expect this to be handed in as homework at the beginning of the next lesson, which is, I believe, tomorrow." A general groan sounded. "Detention for anyone who hasn't completed all ten answers. We shall start practical lessons later in the week; do not be late to class." His black eyes met Draco's. "I detest lateness."

Draco did as recommended by Snape, although he loathed to admit it. He dumped his books at the foot of his bed before the final lesson of the day. The only lesson worth attending. Flying.

For the first time, Draco was one of the first to arrive at the lesson. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, lighting up the old castle and grounds that seemed to stretch for miles. In the distance, he could see the Forbidden Forest.

The brooms were organised in two neat lines. Draco approached them eagerly, but almost soon as he did, a whistle, loud and piercing, cut through the air.

"Don't touch!" A witch, clutching her own broomstick, with white hair that was, if possible, wilder than Granger's, marched into sight. "Stand back, stand back!" She waved at them all to get back. "We'll just wait for these stragglers. Hurry up, you three!" She stepped up to the head of the class, her eyes examining every student in turn, figuring out if they might prove to be of any aptitude with a broom. "Alright!" she called, finally satisfied with her judgements, "Everyone step up to the left side of a broom— any broom, any one will do."

Draco darted forwards. His eyes raced hungrily over the brooms. His father had warned him not to expect much from these cheap, outmoded brooms that were little more than a few twigs strung together with a piece of rotting string and old magic. He stood next to the best one he could find, one without too many lumps and bumps, and stuck his arm out over it. Once Madam Hooch had barked her instructions, he called, "Up!" The broom jumped into his hand.

He looked up, smug, and saw Potter standing opposite him, broom already in hand. Draco's eyes travelled to the green and silver badge on the other boy's robes. "Potter," he muttered.

"Malfoy." Harry's eyes scanned him. "Where's your Gryffindor badge?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I don't belong in Gryffindor. The Hat's made a mistake."

"How?"

"I'm meant to be in Slytherin," Draco snapped, "my father was, and his father, and his, and his, and his."

"Since when?"

"Since forever. And my mum too. Narcissa Black." He expected Harry to be impressed, but he looked nonplussed. "Two of the oldest families in history."

Harry frowned. "We all come from old families."

Draco scowled. "Wizarding families. Not that you'd know what that is."

"I know things worth knowing," Harry retorted.

"Oh yeah?" Draco sneered, "Like what?"

"Like how to make friends."

Draco glared at him. The final broom, belonging to the Granger girl, flew into her palm. She pushed her messy hair out of her face, trying to regain her calm.

"And now it's time to mount your brooms. Watch me, like this," Hooch called.

Draco didn't take his eyes from Harry. He mounted the broom.

"With the handle pointing like this, at this angle," Madam Hooch continued. "Now on my whistle, we'll all take off, on the count of three. One, two—"

A yelp from further down the line of brooms made everyone turn. "What the—?" Madam Hooch stared. "Who is that? Longbottom? Come down. Come down here at once! Longbottom!"

"I can't," the boy gasped, "I… I don't know how."

"Just point it to the ground," Madam Hooch said.

"I can't!"

"Listen to me, Longbottom. I have trained students who have gone on to be international Quidditch players. Just tilt… Come here…" She reached up to grab the handle, but the broom jerked upwards. "Longbottom!"

"Help!" the boy gasped, "I can't control it! Help!" The broom took off like a rocket, soaring headlong into the sky before plummeting to the ground again.

"Does he know how to fly?" Granger asked desperately.

"Are you kidding, of course not," Draco said, "but don't worry, I can save him." He mounted his broom again, but an iron grip stopped him, cutting off the blood supply to his arm.

"Oh no you're not!" Madam Hooch snapped, "You're staying right here on the ground. All of you! I'll get him." She looked up at the grey sky. "Where did he go?"

Silence fell over the whole group. "Well, where is he?" Madam Hooch demanded frantically.

"Over there!" someone shouted, and they all wheeled round. A small dot was whizzing towards them, or more correctly, towards the castle. Madam Hooch's eyes followed the little figure hanging on for dear life, and worked out the trajectory of the broom. Her yellow eyes flew wide open. "Longbottom!" She gasped, breaking into a sprint as the end of the broom clipped the top of castle. Longbottom fell, saved only by his collar, then fell again and again, landing hard on the ground. The group flocked to where he lay, face down in the grass. Granger, Harry and Draco elbowed their way to the front. Madam Hooch helped him to his feet. "I'll be taking Neville to the hospital wing," she announced, "everyone is to stay here with their feet firmly on the ground. Anyone who breaks the rule will be out of Hogwarts before you say Quidditch."

The two figures disappeared inside the castle, watched by all except one. Harry Potter stepped forwards to where Neville had fallen and scooped up something on the grass. "What's this?"

"That," Draco said, sweeping forwards and taking it from his hand, "is a Remembrall. It turns red when you forget something. Looks like Longbottom forgot the thing that stops you forgetting."

A few nervous laughs broke out from the small crowd gathered around the boys.

"Give it back," Harry said, extending his hand, "and I'll give it to Longbottom."

"No." Draco wrapped his fingers tighter around the clear ball. "I'll give it to him. He's in my house."

"I thought you didn't want to be a Gryffindor."

"Well you're no Gryffindor, either!"

"Stop it, both of you." Granger marched up to them and thrust out her hand. "I'll give it to Neville, seeing as I'm the only one out of the three of us he actually likes."

The boys stared at her. Draco scoffed. "You hear that, Potter? She thinks that we're not likeable people."

"I did, Malfoy, yeah." Harry looked her up and down. "Blaise was telling me about you the other day, in the Slytherin common room."

"Oh yes? And what was he saying?"

"You're a muggle born."

"So?" Her eyes went from one to the other. "You were brought up as a muggle. When did you learn about your magic?"

"Harry Potter's always been magical," Draco retorted, "more magical than you. Some little muggle born out of nowhere that no one's ever heard of. You're not like us. My parents are from old Wizarding families, some of the most famous ones."

"Yeah, and everyone knows my name," Harry added. Granger backed off a few paces, her eyes round and hurt. Harry's eyes dropped to the Remembrall. "Alright Malfoy, just hand it over."

"No." Draco jerked his hand back. "Not a chance, Potter." The insult of earlier came back to him, stinging his pride. His grip tightened. "I'll show you how to make friends." He turned to the crowd. "Who wants to see how high I can throw this?"

There was a lack of enthusiasm. Draco licked his lips nervously. "Who wants to bet I can throw it higher than Potter? Who wants to bet that I could catch it as well?"

This seemed to grab their attention, their eyes fixed on the see-through ball glinting in the light of the sun. "Yeah?" A few "yeahs!" came back to him. This was enough of an incentive. Draco hopped blithely onto the broom. "Coming, Potter?"

"You bet!"

"Potter!" Granger stepped forward, "You don't even know how to fly."

"I'll learn," Harry said firmly.

Draco kicked off from the ground, bursting into the air like a cork. The wind whipped past his hair, cooling his anxieties. His father would come. He'd get his house changed. He knew it.

Harry was in the air, too. He held the broom well, steadily, with a grip that seemed natural. Draco eyed him up suspiciously. "First time on a broom?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah, so what?" Harry challenged him.

Draco shrugged. "Well whatever you do, don't look down." He peered at the group of students watching them from the ground. "This is how to make friends, Potter. By impressing them. Always worked for my father."

"Well maybe your father isn't such a prat as you."

Draco's heart pounded. "How dare you!" he spat, "How dare you say that about me!"

Harry's eyes went to the Remembrall.

"You want it?" Draco held it out. "Come and get it!"

He turned and threw it as hard as he could, pushing all his anger and fear into the throw. Shouts of laughter from below quickened his heart. He turned to grin at Harry, proving he could still be funny, he could still fit in, he could still impress others. But Harry wasn't there. Even as Draco turned, the Boy Who Lived had raced past him, leaving Draco's robes flapping in the tailwind, and his smile unshared.

The students below shrieked as Harry split from Draco and tore after the clear ball, running underneath his shadow on the grass below.

Draco's eyes followed Harry through the air, the black robes emblazoned with the green and silver crest flying out behind him. The Remembrall was invisible from this distance. His broom sank slowly to the grass. Draco's feet hit the ground, and for a few moments he didn't move.

"You're both unbelievably stupid," a bossy voice from behind him started. He turned to stare incredulously at the girl. "Madam Hooch said you could be expelled."

"Why would you care what happens to us?" Draco spat.

"Because I would hate to be kicked out of Hogwarts for something so silly," Granger continued, "and besides, I'm sure you're both capable wizards who could do well at Hogwarts, if you ever put the effort in."

"I don't need Hogwarts," Draco retorted.

"How else are you going to get an education?" Her tone didn't seem to want an answer, but Draco gave one anyway.

"My father would teach me."

She laughed. "Do you know nothing? It's forbidden for underage wizards to use spells outside of Hogwarts. And I'll bet that many jobs in the Wizarding world require Wizarding qualifications. You have to study." Draco pulled a face. "Oh!" Her eyes flew past Draco's face to the large crowd of students. "Potter's landed!" She ran after the crowd, with a "Come on!" to Draco over her shoulder.

Scowling, Draco threw down the broomstick and walked sulkily after her.

The students were cheering as Harry raised the Remembrall, clutched in his small hand. Blaise and Parkinson danced over to him, sharing hi fives and clapping him on the back.

"Get out of the way. Get out of the way! Move!"

Everyone turned in horror as Professor McGonagall stormed towards the group of students and began to elbow her way through until she stood face to face with Harry. She was breathless, her hat askew. Draco's eyes brightened, and he instantly wormed forwards, fighting to get a better view. "Potter." McGonagall seemed to be short of words now that she faced the small boy, so like his father, the Slytherin snake on his chest.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Did you catch that… that thing?"

"This?" Harry held it up. "Yes, Professor. I did."

Professor McGonagall straightened her robes as Draco prepared for the inevitable. "Well, if I was head of your house I know exactly what I'd do to you." A chilling silence fell over the group. "Unfortunately, I'm not, so I shall just have to pass this on to Professor Snape. Go and see him in his office later today, Potter. He'll be expecting you." Her eyes drifted to the Remembrall. "May I?"

Harry nodded quietly, placing it in her hand. "It belongs to Longbottom, Professor."

"Thank you, Potter, but I am aware of whose it is, although I have no idea how you got hold of it." She glanced around at them all before sweeping away, vanishing into the shadows of the castle.

Frightened whispers broke out between the students, which quickly turned into a noisy clamour.

"She won't really have you expelled, Harry, don't you worry."

"He'll only get what he deserves, anyway. Madam Hooch said not to fly."

"Don't worry, Harry, Dumbledore'll stick up for you."

Draco stood apart from the group. Part of him was glad that Harry Potter, who had insulted him not five minutes ago, and then again before that, as well as humiliating him by refusing his handshake before the sorting ceremony, was going to be punished, even if it wasn't entirely his fault. But the other part of him felt guilty. What if he became the reason that Harry Potter— Harry Potter— was expelled?

"Malfoy?"

He jumped and instantly groaned. "Not you again."

Granger gave a pointed, almost resentful, look. "I'm sure he won't be expelled, if that's what you're worried about."

"Of course I'm not worried about that, why should I be?"

"You made this happen."

"So?" He glared at her. "I don't care about him."

"No." Her eyes gave him a cynical glare. "Just yourself."

Dinner felt like a lifetime that night. Snape's eyes watched Harry Potter's every move; where he sat, his conversations with Zabini Blaise and Pansy Parkinson, the foods he ate…

Draco sat alone. Again. Granger was sat with some others, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Ron Weasley, although she didn't seem to be talking much, unlike her usual self.

Draco glanced up at the head table. Dumbledore was watching him through curious eyes. But it was only when dinner ended and people started to file out of the hall that Dumbledore approached him. "Mr Malfoy. I'd like you to come with me, please."

Draco sprang up from the table. "Is my father here?"

"Indeed he is."

Draco turned to the other Gryffindors, a smirk lighting up his face. "Finally," he said, "I can go where I belong, and not have to put up with you lot." He marched after Dumbledore, his chin high, his stride confident for the first time.

Dumbledore led him through the corridors until they reached a corridor which Draco hadn't been down before. They stopped in front of a large, stone statue of a gargoyle. "Sherbet Lemons." The gargoyle rotated, revealing a stone staircase.

Dumbledore led the way, Draco trailing behind. His eyes widened as he entered. The headmaster's office was perfectly round, unlike the Gryffindor Tower. There were all manner of intricate contraptions perched on tiny tables. The walls were adorned with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. They were sat forwards in their portraits, all eyes fixed on Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore. One had even produced his ear trumpet.

"Lucius," Dumbledore smiled, "so kind of you to wait for us while we ate."

"You let my boy eat with those Gryffindors?" Lucius spluttered, "Such as the Weasleys."

"The Weasleys are a well-respected Wizarding family," Dumbledore said carefully, "A pure blood line as long as yours, I believe."

"Almost," Lucius replied. His gaze moved past Dumbledore, and landed upon the shining face of his son.

"What can I do for you, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked.

Lucius stared at him. "You need to ask?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I want Draco to be resorted."

Dumbledore shrugged. "It would make no difference. Once the Hat has chosen, it never changes its decision."

Lucius' grip on his walking cane tightened. It was long and black, crowned with a silver snake head. "He must be in Slytherin. Switch his house."

"I cannot do that, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said with a shrug.

"This is ridiculous!" Draco burst out. All eyes turned to stare at him. Portraits shuffled closer to their frames. "What does it even matter? There's no point to it. It's random. All it does is tell you what robes to wear, and where to sit at dinner."

"And where you live, and who you make friends with, and what allies and enemies you make," Lucius hissed at his son.

"I'm sure young Draco will make plenty of friends in Gryffindor."

Lucius rounded on Dumbledore as if he'd insulted him. "I beg your pardon?"

"There are plenty of charming students in Gryffindor," Dumbledore continued, "Miss Granger, for one, and Longbottom I think would be a very loyal, brave friend."

"Longbottom? Granger?" Lucius scoffed. "What about the Flints? The Parkinsons?"

"He is in Gryffindor, Lucius, not Slytherin."

"You don't have to remind me!"

"Why is it so hard to change?" Draco demanded. "I don't want to be in Gryffindor. There's no reason… It's pathetic."

"The Hat has decided," Dumbledore said, "There's no changing that. Rules are rules, Draco. I'm only sorry that something such as this upsets you so much."

"Don't trivialise this, Dumbledore!" Lucius snarled, stepping up to the desk. Draco imitated his father. "My son cannot be allowed to be in any house other than Slytherin."

"You know," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "this reminds me of another case… Sirius Black. Your wife's relative, I believe."

"Only a cousin." His eyes burned against Dumbledore's cool exterior. "Don't bring Sirius Black into this. He is hardly a model to be followed."

Dumbledore turned his eyes away from Lucius and towards Draco.

"You have a choice," he said, "you can fight this, or you can embrace it. Run with it. Go where it takes you."

"I don't have a choice!" Draco spat, "I'm stuck in Gryffindor."

Dumbledore sighed. "This house might become what defines you, Draco, but you will also define it. There is a reason you were placed there; search inside yourself and find that reason. It's in there somewhere. Buried, no doubt, by the pressures and expectations of your family." Lucius tutted. "Perhaps you might even fare better in Gryffindor than you might have done in Slytherin."

"I don't think so," Draco muttered, "I will always do better where my family are."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Draco hurled the ball of rough parchment at the window. The ink was still wet, and smudged on his palm. No matter, his red duvet was already splattered with dark ink. The ball bounced off the window and landed on the floor, rolling underneath Neville's bed and joining the countless other discarded essays that had been shoved out of sight.

Draco seized a new sheet and started again, forcing himself to concentrate. It had been almost two weeks since his father had complained to Dumbledore. Draco had written to his parents multiple times since, but not a single letter had been answered.

The door to the dormitory creaked open. Draco jumped, staring at the boy who hovered awkwardly in the doorway. "Hi Draco."

"Longbottom."

Neville licked his lips nervously. "We're all downstairs… If you want to join."

"Thank you, Longbottom," Draco said with more confidence than he felt, "but I have an essay for Professor Snape that I need to write."

"You could write it downstairs," Neville said quickly. He caught Draco's eye and added, "We're all working on it too. Except Hermione, she's in her room. But… if you need any help…"

"I don't need help from you!"

"No. No, of course not." Neville flinched from Draco's harsh tone.

"It's more likely to be you pitiful bunch who need help," Draco said imperiously, "I can do it by myself."

Neville nodded. "That's what Hermione said, too."

Draco watched the boy curiously. He was wedged between the door and the stone wall, as if mortally afraid of entering fully, his hand still on the outside handle.

"Is there anything else you need?" Draco asked.

"No," Neville muttered, his eyes round. "Well… If you change your mind… We're all in it… together. You can come…"

"Weasley wouldn't want me there."

"Ron's said he's okay with you coming to study with us."

Draco smiled sarcastically, bending his head back over his parchment.

"Alright… Well, see you in a bit," Neville muttered, stepping back into the corridor, shutting the door with an unexpected bang.

Draco stared blankly at the parchment, all concentration on potions gone. Should he go? No, he couldn't. They'd think him weak. He didn't need them. He wasn't a Gryffindor, not truly. He wasn't…

He squeezed his eyes shut, repeating the little sentence again and again in his mind.

The door opened again, and Draco's head flew up. "What do you want now?"

Ron Weasley froze. His hands fiddled with his faded, oversized robe. "Nothing, I just…" He pointed at his bed, next to Draco's.

Draco gave a brief nod, and scribbled a meaningless opening to his essay. Ron headed slowly back to the door, his feet dragging— or were they shuffling to avoid catching his robe? "Did Neville—?"

"Yes." The boys' eyes met. "Not that you'd want me, a Malfoy, to work with you."

Ron shrugged. "You're a Gryffindor," he muttered half-heartedly.

Draco glared at him. "My parents hate your family," he said suddenly.

Ron flinched. "Yeah, I know. My family don't much like yours, either." There were a few moments of hesitant silence. "I'll just go…" Ron said eventually, gesturing at the door.

"Is it true Granger's studying alone as well?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Uh, yeah," Ron said, "she's in their dorm— the girls' dorm."

"Why?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I don't think she has many friends. It's not hard to see why. Who wants to be friends with a swot like that?" Ron stopped short. His eyes dropped to the parchment in Draco's hands. "She's just… bossy. And… all that hair." He grinned nervously, but it lasted no more than a second. "I'm just…" He pointed at the door and then hastened to it. He was out the room and down the stairs before Draco could fully open his mouth. His gaze fell to the parchment again. Another stupid introduction. He thought about throwing this one away too, but his arms lacked the ferocity, and his mind lacked the energy.

"How did you get that charm so quickly, Malfoy?" Seamus asked as they left the classroom. Draco glanced over his shoulder at the four boys who trailed behind him, the other three cowering behind Seamus' confidence.

"Wingardium Leviosa?"

"Yeah. That one."

"I just followed Professor Flitwick's example," Draco said, trying to sound modest and calm.

"So was I," Ron piped up, "not that that bloody worked."

"Well, I say Flitwick, I really mean Granger," Draco admitted.

Seamus grinned, but this seemed to set Ron off further. "Hermione!" he snorted, "No wonder no one can bloody stand her! She's a nightmare. You know she nearly poked my eye out, waving her wand about like that. And then told me _I_ was the one doing too much wand waving! Bossy little so-and-so; that's why she's not got any friends."

Someone burst through their little group and charged past Draco, knocking his arm as they went. Hermione Granger. They stared after as she veered away from the direction of the Great Hall, leaving startled first years in her wake. All five boys slowed to a halt.

"You've done it now, Weasley," Draco muttered.

"So?" Ron mumbled, but he seemed uneasy.

"C'mon." Seamus grabbed Dean's sleeve. "Let's go. She'll sort herself out. I'm starving."

Draco sat closer to the others this dinner time, but not too close. As a rule, Gryffindors seemed to guard their distance around him, squeezing up close to one another, elbows touching, in order to preserve the cold space around him.

The other boys threw him a few, cautious looks, as if wanting to say something, but not knowing what or how to say it.

Draco searched desperately for something to say. As much as he hated Gryffindor and the others, he was starting to realise that he hated being alone just as much. "Where's Granger?"

Ron glanced up, but said nothing.

"I heard Parvati saying she went to the girls' toilets," Neville piped up. He looked around nervously. "I'm sure she'll come soon. Maybe we should save her something."

Draco watched as Ron shovelled food into his mouth, as Seamus piled his plate high with food. Even Dean, the skinniest one of them all, was managing to power his way through dish after dish. It seemed unlikely there would be anything left for her, even if she did come within the next five minutes.

A terrible shriek made everyone freeze. Ron dropped his drumstick as food fell from Neville's mouth. Draco jumped like a bullet, his eyes staring for the source of the scream.

Racing down the centre of the hall was Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, his purple turban wobbling dangerously on his head. "Troll!" he roared, "In the dungeon!" There was a collective gasp from the room. And then he fainted onto the floor.

For the briefest of moments, there was pure silence. Dumbledore rose from his seat just in time to see the hall erupt in panic.

Students screamed, leaping to their feet, ready to charge from the hall crushing all who might stand in their way, namely Filch and Mrs Norris, who hovered at the doors.

"Silence!" Dumbledore roared, and the hall fell quiet again. "Prefects take your students back to your dormitories. No one is to leave once they are there. Remain quiet and above all calm." He nodded at Professors Snape and McGonagall who quickly swept out of a small door behind the professors' table.

Percy Weasley instantly sprang to his feet. "First years follow me!" he ordered them, before leading the way out of the hall, stepping carefully around the unconscious body of Professor Quirrell.

Draco staggered to his feet, chasing after the other boys as they hastened after Percy.

It was only when they were out of the hall, passing students from other houses heading in opposite directions, that Draco remembered. He stepped forward and grabbed the first sleeve he could reach. Ron stumbled backwards. "Ow!" He tugged the sleeve from Draco's hands. "Get off, Malfoy."

"What about Granger?" Draco demanded.

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know."

"Know what?"

"About the troll."

Ron hesitated. "Well… It's in the dungeons. Nowhere near her. She'll be fine."

"But she won't be in her dormitory."

Ron's look of discomfort changed to one of disgust. "What do you care about a muggle born, Malfoy?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "If anything happens to her and we knew and did nothing…" His voice trailed off. "But of course I don't care about a muggle born. I just thought you might, you and your muggle loving family—"

Ron gave him a hard shove. "What're you saying about my family now, Malfoy?"

"Nothing." Draco pushed him back. "Only if you want to go after Granger—"

"Why would I? Everybody knows she's got no friends."

"Well if you don't want to keep her safe—"

"I never said that!" Ron snapped, puffing out his chest. Draco gave him a challenging look, his eyebrows rising sharply. Ron glowered at him. Then, without a word, he stormed off in the opposite direction to the Gryffindor common room, Draco chasing after him.

"Where are the girls' toilets?" Ron asked, his voice tight and with a hint of superiority to it.

"I don't know," Draco muttered, "I might have thought you'd have a better idea of that, Weasley."

"I don't notice them!" Ron protested, "Why do you think I was asking you?"

Draco opened his mouth, but a flicker of movement caught his eye. He grabbed Ron's robes and dragged him out of sight, their backs colliding with the rough, stone wall. "What—?" Ron tried to tug Draco's hands off him.

"Shh," Draco hissed.

"No!" Ron spluttered.

"Shut up, Weasley!" Draco snapped, peering past the wall at the figure that was gliding away from them. Ron joined his side.

"Looks like Snape." He glowered at Draco. "Not afraid of the potions teacher are you?"

Draco pushed him. "Where's he going?"

Ron shrugged. "How should I know?" He looked ahead of him. "Who cares about Snape? What about Hermione?"

Draco tore himself away from the curious sight. There was something wrong about it. Snape was meant to be heading for the dungeons, with the other professors. What was he doing here? No, there was definitely something more to it…

A deep, rumbling noise made them freeze. Ron's bravado vanished. "What was that?" he whimpered.

A shadow appeared at the end of the hallway. Draco dashed to the opposite wall, hiding behind a column that stuck out, Ron scuttling behind. The shadow grew. A pounding sound, accompanied by a slight tremor, began to grow louder. Draco pushed himself harder against the wall, feeling the uneven wall scratch against his back through his robes.

The smell hit them just before the troll came into view. The smell of rotting garbage and sewers, hit them so hard they gagged. Draco's fingers scraped at the wall, and he thought he might be sick.

Through squinted eyes he saw the great, lumbering figure of the troll meander towards them. He moved as if to run, but Ron was blocking his way, almost doubled up from the smell.

Draco turned back to stare at the troll. It hadn't seen them. Instead, it staggered into the girls' toilets.

Draco's mouth fell open, his hands grasping at Ron's robes, pushing him to run.

A scream stopped them both in their tracks. Ron wheeled around. "Hermione!" He turned to Draco.

Draco's mouth flapped. His heart was pounding, ready to leap from his chest. "We… We can't go in there," Draco spluttered, "students aren't meant to be near the troll."

"And Hermione?" Draco couldn't answer. Another scream. Draco's blood chilled. Ron stared at him desperately, almost pleading. "Malfoy, come on. I'm not bloody going in by myself."

Draco's gaze wandered back up the stone corridor, deserted apart from them. "Come on!" Ron urged him from behind.

A roar from inside the toilets made Draco turn back round. A spine-tingling shriek pierced the air. Draco delved into his robes and pulled out his wand, his hands shaking uncontrollably. The two of them dashed to the toilets and burst inside. Water was leaking from where the sinks had been, but now they were no more than crushed pieces of porcelain. The cubicles had been destroyed, smashed to pieces by an enormous club held in the gnarled hand of the troll.

Hermione was hiding under the second to last sink remaining. Her hair was wilder than normal with bits of debris poking out, her robes dusty and sodden. She looked up at them as they crashed inside, their robes dragging in the water, wands looking like nothing more than twigs compared to the club of the troll. She gave another squeal.

The troll roared, raising its club high into the air and brought it down with such force that the floor shook.

"No need to scream at us too!" Ron snorted, "We're trying to help! How are we worse than that?"

Draco stared at the wreckage around them. Now that he was here he felt far less courageous than he had before, not that he had felt courageous even then. He stared at the 10 inch wand in his hand, and it seemed to shrink before his eyes to nothing more than a short, stubby piece of wood, with no magical power whatsoever. The destruction was too much for this twig to handle; where to begin? What spell to cast first? What spell would actually be useful to cast?

A loud crash brought Draco back to earth. The troll had demolished the sink under which Granger had been hiding, and was preparing to hit the next and final one.

Ron was motionless, his face pale and sickly as he stared at Granger curling into a ball under the arch of the troll's body.

Draco bent down and seized the first thing he could: a piece of toilet cubicle. He threw it with all his might at the creature's head. It bounced off. The troll barely seemed to notice. Draco seized another piece and hurled that too. "Come on, Weasley!" He shouted, motioning at the debris on the floor.

Ron joined in, grabbing a tap that had snapped off the sink. "Oi. Oi! Hey, you. Pea brain!" The tap struck its mark. It hit the troll's skull with a hollow knock before clattering to the floor.

This seemed to do it. The troll turned to glare at Ron, its tiny eyes squinting to get a better look at him. Then, it started to charge at him, swinging the club into the air.

"Malfoy!"

Draco reacted instantly. He snatched a broken toilet seat and ran at the troll. He could hear Granger shouting something, but wasn't sure what it was. He sliced the sharp edge of the seat across the troll's leg. The troll howled, but hardly any blood was drawn. Draco tried again and again, but to no avail.

And then, above the hissing of the water jets flooding the room, the roars of the troll, Granger's bossy voice, came one voice louder than everything else. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Draco paused in his activity. He raised his face up to the ceiling. The club hung, suspended in mid-air, inches above the troll's head. The troll reached up to touch it, curious as to why it had suddenly jumped from his hand. Draco leapt away from the troll just in time. The club dropped with a sickening crack onto its master's head, and the troll collapsed onto the soaking flagstones, making the room shake again.

Ron stood with his back pressed against the wall, trembling with fear and delight, staring in amazement at the wand in his hand. "Well done, Ron!" Granger burst out from under the sink. She glanced across at Draco, still lying on the floor, blood leaking from a small wound on his hand. "And you too, Draco."

"What—"

The astonished voice caused Draco to sit bolt upright and stare at the figure who had just entered. Professor McGonagall looked down at the hem of her robe dragging through the water and debris before starting again. "What in heaven's name has happened here?" She looked up directly into Draco's pale face. His heart dropped into his stomach. Her green eyes flitted across to Granger.

Still unnoticed, Ron turned slowly as if to leave. "Not so fast." Professor Snape swept in, followed swiftly by Professors Quirrell and Sprout.

McGonagall turned around and saw Ron hovering awkwardly against the wall, wand still in hand. "You as well, Weasley?" she demanded. He said nothing.

"Malfoy." Snape's cutting voice chilled him to the bone. Draco scrambled to his feet, his robes dripping. "And what are you doing here?"

Draco glanced at Granger and then at Ron. "I…"

"Yes?"

"It's all my fault." Granger stepped forwards. "I came here alone. I thought I could handle trolls because, well, I've read about them. But it wasn't how I thought it would be. Ron and Draco were only trying to save me."

McGonagall stared at her, almost lost for words. Then she exploded, "That was a very foolish thing to do, Miss Granger! Very foolish indeed! What were you thinking? Going after a troll, a _troll!_ " She gestured wildly at the monster lying unconscious on the floor. "You're a first year student!"

Granger hung her head. "I'm very sorry, Professor."

"Ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor. As for you two." She glared at the two boys standing side by side— Snape had thrust Ron next to Draco. "I am astonished that you would dare to attempt to rescue Miss Granger all by yourselves. However, it is clear that you have displayed some initiative in dealing with this…" She looked back down at the troll. "Event. I will award you five points to Gryffindor for your great bravery or tremendous stupidity." She glared at all three of them. "Now go back to your dormitory. Quickly now, don't take all day!"

The three of them scuttled past her and out of the door. A hand landed on Draco's shoulder. "One moment, if you please, Malfoy."

Draco let out a sigh of exasperation and nerves before turning to face Professor Snape. "Do not be too hasty in your decisions," Snape said quietly, leaning towards him. "Your father has already visited Hogwarts once so far this term, do not make him have to repeat that experience." Draco nodded nervously. Was Snape threatening him?

Snape's face lingered for a few moments. Draco dropped his gaze, unable to continue staring into those black, heartless eyes any longer.

But as he did so, he saw something red out of the corner of his eye. He stared at it, trying to work out what it might be. It was only as Snape straightened up that Draco saw. It was a massive gash, a deep, gaping wound in Snape's leg, normally hidden by his robes that were now torn on one side.

Draco looked away, wondering if Snape knew he had seen. "Go." His tone told Draco nothing, but as Draco and Snape parted, he could hear the uneven paces of Snape as he limped back to his office.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him outside the common room when they got back. "There you are," she exclaimed. Ron seemed less enthusiastic.

"Well done, Malfoy, you just lost us five points."

"Thanks to you," Draco sneered.

Hermione stepped between them. "Stop it," she ordered them, "both of you. It was I who lost us the points."

"We could have been killed," Ron muttered.

"Or worse," Hermione said ominously. The boys stared at her.

"Like what?"

"We could have been expelled."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You need to sort out your priorities, woman."

She glared at him, but then suddenly came over rather shy. "I just wanted to thank you for coming to save me. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there." The boys puffed themselves out with pride. "But now, I'm going to bed."

A sudden thought flashed across Draco's mind. "Wait!" He grabbed the sleeve of her robe. "There's something else." They looked expectantly at him. "Professor Snape has a huge cut on his leg."

Their faces were unimpressed. "A cut?" Ron repeated.

"Like a wound," Draco carried on, "a massive one, right here." He pointed at his own leg, estimating the size with his hands, and then exaggerating it to hold their attention.

"It can't have been that big!" Ron snorted.

"It was," Draco insisted, "this big, right here. And do you remember we saw him earlier, on the way to the troll. He wasn't in the dungeons." Inspiration struck him. "I know why it felt odd, seeing him there," he continued, the excitement building, "he was going towards the out of bounds corridor. Whatever's in there, it's dangerous. It ripped Snape's leg to shreds."

"But why would anyone go in there if it's that dangerous?" Hermione asked.

"Exactly!" Draco powered on, a surge of excitement filling him. "You'd only go in there if you really needed to. If there was something in there worth having more than anything else in the world." Ron snorted, but Draco ignored him. "And that's what happened to Snape. Dumbledore's keeping something important, something special at Hogwarts and Snape wants it for himself!"

"A load of tosh pot," Ron said firmly, "what would Dumbledore be keeping here? Hogwarts is hardly safe."

"Can you think of anywhere safer?"

"Yeah, Gringotts."

"Hogwarts is safer than Gringotts," Hermione affirmed. Ron rolled his eyes. "But what would they be keeping there?"

Draco shrugged. "Who knows, but it sounds worth having." He grinned.

"No!" Hermione burst out. "No! Draco, no! We can't just go and take it for ourselves."

"Why not?"

"See, this is why you should have been sorted into Slytherin," Ron muttered.

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco snapped.

"If something wounded Snape—" she continued.

"Almost took his leg off."

"Then we definitely don't stand a chance."

"We could just see what's down there," Draco suggested.

"No!"

"Why is it such a secret? How bad can it be?"

"I thought you said it almost took Snape's leg off," Ron grumbled.

"Well…" Draco tried to edge round it, "It can't be that bad. It'd be interesting to know."

"Don't be stupid," Ron mumbled, but his eyes held a look of curiosity that even Hermione noticed.

"No, Ron," she said firmly. "We shouldn't. We can't. It's out of bounds— for a reason!" She glared at them both. "I'll see you both in the morning when you've recovered your senses." And with that, she snapped out the password and marched inside the common room.

"C'mon, Weasley," Draco said quickly, "we could go now. She'll never know. Then we can come back with whatever it is and rub it in her face!"

Ron's eyes wandered past Draco and down the corridor, before looking longingly at the common room. "Y'know, you've worked some stuff out, and that's good for a Malfoy—"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"But I don't fancy being ripped to shreds by a monster. We barely defeated that troll as it was…"

"But we did." Draco could see the urge to explore slowly draining from Ron's eyes. "Come on! It'll be fun."

Ron shook his head. "Not this time, Malfoy. I'm tired too, I'm off." And he, too, disappeared into the common room, leaving Draco alone in the passageway.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

"Have you heard?" Hermione asked breathlessly as Draco joined them at the table in the great hall for breakfast. Ron glanced up uneasily at him, but let him sit down.

"That Harry Potter's still at Hogwarts," Draco muttered, "yes, I had noticed."

"Not only that," Hermione continued, "but Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, has made him the team seeker!"

Both boys stared at her. Draco felt a pang of jealousy twist in his stomach.

"What?" Ron gasped. "But he's a first year."

"They already have a seeker," Draco said, "Terrence Higgs."

Ron looked him up and down. "You've been doing your homework."

"Shut up, Weasley."

"He's the youngest seeker in a century," Hermione continued, "It's meant to be a secret until the match, but I heard him telling Blaise earlier."

Ron moaned. "They'll be unstoppable now with him as their seeker. Youngest seeker in a century! What chance does Gryffindor have in the next match?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Hermione sighed, "it's no more interesting than football."

Ron and Draco exchanged confused glances. "Football?"

She stared at them. "Yes, football." They continued to look non-plussed. "How can you never have heard of football?" she demanded, a slight laugh in her voice.

"What is it?" Ron asked, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. He clearly hadn't quite forgiven her over the troll incident yet.

Hermione shook her head imperiously. "A boring, muggle game. Ask Dean or Seamus to tell you about it."

Both boys made a mental note to do so.

"But have you heard the other news?" Hermione asked. They both looked up from their breakfast. "About Gringotts."

They glanced at each other uncomfortably. "What?" Ron asked grudgingly.

"It's been broken into," Hermione said in a low, dramatic whisper.

"What?" Draco started.

"Nothing's been taken," she continued, "but there was definitely a break in."

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the I-told-you-so gaze of Draco. "Gringotts safer than Hogwarts, is it?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Malfoy," he muttered.

Draco turned to face Hermione, his eyes gleaming. She sighed angrily. "No!"

"But it's obviously right!" Draco hissed, "Something incredibly important is hidden here, otherwise Snape wouldn't have had his leg ripped off for it, and not even Gringotts is safe! It has to be something of national importance."

Ron scowled. "Stop trying to sound fancy," he said, "you're just like your dad. And anyway, Snape's leg looks fine to me."

Draco stopped before the scathing remark came out of his mouth, his eyes moving past Ron's ginger head to stare at Professor Snape. The Professor moved swiftly and cleanly, as he always did, not a single limp in his stride. "I don't understand," Draco muttered, "his leg… Yesterday it was all mangled. There was blood… Everywhere!"

"Something the matter, Malfoy?"

All three of them jumped and stared up at the greasy haired Professor, leering at them through his black eyes.

"No," Draco said quickly, "nothing, sir."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Quite." He swept off again, his robes billowing around his legs.

"His robes aren't ripped," Ron observed.

"Well of course not," Draco snapped, "he would have changed them!"

"Draco, Snape isn't walking with a limp," Hermione said, "he looks fine. You obviously made a mistake."

"No!" Draco snarled, "I didn't make a mistake! There was blood everywhere, I don't make that kind of mistake!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged uncomfortable looks. "Draco…" Hermione tried again.

"No!" Draco threw down his knife and fork. "I know what I saw. Just because a little muggle born and a Weasley don't believe me— I wouldn't expect them to! You probably haven't got half a brain between you!" He stood up furiously, and marched away from the table, heading back for the common room. He would prove to them that there was something going on here. Something sinister.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to do this, that he almost walked into someone else exiting the great hall through the same door. They collided, and Draco staggered sideways. His blue eyes met the green ones of Harry Potter. Their gazes fell almost instinctively to the crest emblazoned on the other's robes. Silver and green. Red and gold.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

There were a few awkward moments of silence between them.

"How's Ron?" Harry asked.

Draco stared at him. "What?"

"Ron Weasley. You told me he was the wrong sort. Did I see you hanging around with him the other day?"

Draco flushed. Blaise laughed. "Look at him! Look how red his cheeks are compared to the rest of him!"

Draco pushed past Harry's weak smile and continued up the corridor. He was about to head towards the Gryffindor common room when he stopped. His eyes travelled up the staircase to his right. With a quick glance behind him, he dashed up the staircase as it started to move, rotating around the door he was headed for. He burst through, got his bearings and then carried on, charging forwards with all his determination. His heart pounded, and he felt a shiver of delight race down his spine. He'd show them, that Weasley and the muggle-born, he'd show them.

The third floor corridor came into sight. This was where he had seen Snape.

Something made him hesitate. His heart beat quickened. "Go on, Draco," he muttered to himself, "show them. Be cool. Be cool…"

He approached the door warily. This was it. This was the moment. His pale, cold hand closed around smooth wood of his wand. Whatever was beyond this door was potentially lethal. Snape, an experienced professor, had almost lost a leg trying to get through here.

He swallowed nervously, his mouth dry. Was he doing the right thing? He remembered Ron's smug, mocking look. His grip on his wand tightened.

Whatever it was beyond the dangerous thing behind the door, it had to be immensely valuable. What if he retrieved it?

For a second, visions of glory, the whole of Slytherin cheering and demanding him back, his father smiling proudly down at him, even the famous Harry Potter clapping and meekly asking to be his friend, raced through Draco's mind. He would be hailed as a hero. Or a fool. He quickly dismissed the latter one. No, a hero. Definitely a hero. What other student would attempt something so… brave?

He leant close to the door, his ear pressed against the thick wood. What could possibly be in there? A dangerous plant? A dragon? Yes, that seemed the most likely thing. But it was illegal to keep dragons in Britain. But then, what else could it be?

"Alohomora," Draco whispered. The latch made a soft click as it unlocked. Slowly, making no sudden movements, Draco slipped inside.

It was dark inside the corridor. The little crack of light that slipped in with Draco did little to illuminate what was inside. In the brief instances that the door was open, Draco saw something large, bigger than he could lift, a metal ring, lying on the floor.

Maybe it was enchanted. Maybe this had caused Snape's injury. Draco frowned. It seemed unlikely. Maybe this was the treasure Snape had been after. Also unlikely. What use was a metal ring to anyone? He racked his brains, trying to think of precious objects the shape of rings, carved out of metal that his father might have mentioned. Maybe it was European. A possible connection to Durmstrang? That school, after all, was filled of secrets of its own. Perhaps it had carvings on the side? Draco edged closer, trying to find his way in the dark.

Something wet and slimy dropped onto his robes. Disgusting. There must be things hanging from the ceiling. Draco's stomach turned. What if they were poisonous?

"Lumos."

A thick, grey trunk was blocking his way. Draco scowled and reached out with his hand to push it away. His fingers brushed against it. Fur.

He frowned, his gaze falling to the floor. Claws. A foot. A huge, dog's foot, covered in grey hairs, enormous claws protruding from it.

Draco's stomach lurched. He looked up. Not one, but three dog heads glared down at him. Drool hung from their mouths, their eyes curious and hungry. One of the heads launched backwards, letting out a blood curdling howl. The others joined in.

Draco screamed. He turned and ran to the door, falling against it and slamming his fist against the wood. A stabbing pain in his hand made him yelp. A splinter. The dog heads barked, charging towards him. He continued to scream, wishing he could fall through the wood and into the corridor, back to where it was safe.

The teeth gnashed furiously, slobber flying across the room. The barking was deafening. Draco was sure he was still screaming, but could no longer hear his own voice.

The light from his wand went out in a flash. The dog heads howled and barked even louder. He could smell them: foul, almost as bad as the troll, and feel their breath on his face.

And then, as if his prayers had been answered, he seemed to melt through the door. Draco was falling, away from the dog, through the door. A burst of light lit up the dog's heads, and he watched, as if in slow motion, as their teeth launched forwards, missing the tender flesh of his cheeks by inches.

For a moment, everything went black.

He opened his eyes. "Help me, would you?" a voice called out from above him. "I can't shut it…"

The image of the dog sprang into his mind. With a violent start, he leapt to his feet and slammed his weight against the door. The two of them together, their panic turning to strength, finally managed to force the door shut. His wand still in his hand, Draco pointed it at the lock. "Colloportus!"

Gasping for breath, he turned to look at his saviour. The shock almost took it away again. "Potter."

The scruffy boy stared at him like his was insane. "What were you doing?"

Draco flushed. "None of your business."

"Don't you know this corridor is out of bounds?"

"I do now, thanks," Draco snapped, turning on his heel and marching away.

"Why were you there?" Draco ignored him. "Malfoy!"

"None of your business, Potter!" He turned back to grin at him. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to poke around where it doesn't concern you."

Harry's face darkened. "Don't talk about my mother."

"Then don't ask me questions."

"You could have been killed!"

"So?"

"Malfoy." Harry chased after him until he stood directly in front of him, blocking his path to the staircase. His eyes fell to Draco's robes, covered in slime. "What was in there?"

"Why should you care?"

"I want to know what Dumbledore's hiding here as much as you do."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "How do you know he's hiding something in here?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder. There was no one else about. "That robbery at Gringotts… I know about it!"

Draco gave him a disgusted look. "We all do. It's in the papers."

Harry shook his head. "I was there."

"You were in Gringotts during the robbery?" Draco gasped, his eyes widening.

"Not exactly." Harry's voice dropped, and Draco had to lean in closer to hear properly. "I think I know what they were trying to steal."

Draco could barely stand the tension. "And?" He fidgeted on the spot. "Hurry up, Potter, I haven't got all day. Filch'll be along in a minute."

"They didn't get whatever it was they wanted," Harry continued desperately, "and I know why! Hagrid and I were in Gringotts earlier that same day— my birthday, actually—"

"I don't care about your birthday!"

"Hagrid took a package out of Gringotts. Vault 713. I didn't think much of it until this morning, it was about this big—" he motioned with his hands, "and wrapped in a dirty cloth. Hagrid said he was keeping it safe for Professor Dumbledore. What if that's the thing in there? It's got to be hidden somewhere, and why else would anyone keep a massive, three-headed dog?"

Draco stared at him, slowly working it out in his mind. Yes, it made sense… Or did it?

"I saw Snape," he said slowly, "coming down here on the night of the troll. When I saw him later, his whole leg was mangled and bloody; he'd obviously tried to get past the dog."

"To get whatever it was that Hagrid moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts!" Harry finished triumphantly.

Draco frowned. "That still doesn't get us any closer to—" A door slammed behind them. They jumped.

"Filch," Harry muttered, grabbing Draco's arm and hauling him away. Draco wrenched his arm from Harry's grip, giving him a dirty look in the process. Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Maybe you could ask Hagrid what it was?" Draco suggested after a moment.

Harry shook his head. "Already done that, he won't tell me. We have to get past the dog ourselves."

Draco stopped suddenly. It had all seemed like such a good idea, until now. "That monster could have killed me!"

"Whatever it is, it's valuable, and Snape's trying to steal it," Harry said, "he's putting us all in danger."

"Then just tell Dumbledore about him," Draco said, "we don't have to go there ourselves."

"Dumbledore will never believe us," Harry replied, "Snape's head of Slytherin house. He's a respected teacher. No one will believe us. We'll just have to prove it."

Draco stared at him. "You're mad!" he said, pushing past him on his way to the stairs. "I'm not going with you!"

"Then I'll find it by myself."

The vision that Draco had had earlier suddenly came flooding back. The whole school, Gryffindor included, cheering and chanting Harry Potter's name, awarding him the Order of Merlin, even Draco's own parents applauding his bravery, while Draco sat alone, ignored by everyone around him.

"No, I can do it!" Draco snapped. "I'll find it. I don't need your help."

Harry stopped halfway on the stairs, gazing out the window. Draco quickly did likewise.

Hagrid was dragging an enormous tree across the front of the castle towards the entrance. "I could ask Hagrid now," he said suddenly. His eyes lit up. "Yes. Right now. I'll go now." He grinned at Malfoy. "Going home for the holidays?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Want a bet that I'll have it all cracked by the time you get back?"

Draco scowled. "You won't. I will. My father probably knows all about it. He has powerful friends at the Ministry who have probably told him everything."

Harry's face fell slightly. Draco stuck his chest out with pride. "See you after Christmas, Potter."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

Draco glared intensely at the back of Harry's head.

"Stop it, Draco," Hermione said without looking up from her breakfast, "you can't make them lose before the match has even started by sheer will power."

"Who said I wanted Slytherin to lose?" Draco asked.

"Morning!" Ron appeared opposite them. He glanced at Draco, and seemed to instantly regret his decision. Only a chilling look from Hermione made him sit. "What're you staring at?" He muttered, glancing behind him. He saw the scruffy mop of black hair. "Oh, him."

"I don't think I'm going to go to the match today," Draco said, pushing his breakfast to one side.

Hermione instantly pushed it back in front of him. "Eat something," she encouraged him, "you need to keep your strength up."

"Strength for what?"

"And besides, you can't not attend. Apparently, this is going to be the most exciting Quidditch match in years. Potter is the youngest seeker in a century, and Professor McGonagall said that last time Gryffindor was flattened by Slytherin."

Draco viciously prodded the cereal with the spoon.

"Look, Hermione," Ron started uneasily, "if he doesn't want to go, then we shouldn't make him."

"It'd be good," Hermione said firmly, "it's a historic match. And I thought you liked Quidditch, Draco?"

Draco didn't answer. "Hermione." Ron gave her a pointed look. "It's against Slytherin."

"So?" She glanced at Draco. "You're one of us now," she said in a voice that tried to sound gentle, and failed, "you might as well just get stuck in."

"That's not what my father would say."

Hermione laughed. "Who cares? You're a Gryffindor now, whether you like it or not. You should just come along with us."

"You don't have to cheer for Gryffindor… If you don't want…" Ron suggested, but he turned pink even as he said it.

Draco shook his head. "I'm not coming," and as Hermione pushed his breakfast further in front of him, "and I'm not hungry, either!"

He got up and began to march out of the great hall through the enormous, oak doors.

"Coming to the match today, Malfoy?" someone shouted from the Slytherin table as he passed. He ignored them.

"Coming to watch us beat Gryffindor, Malfoy?"

"Hey, Malfoy! What do you think of our new seeker?"

"Don't bother! There's no way Malfoy would have the guts to watch the match. He's a right wimp. Just like his father!"

Draco turned sharply, his eyes raking across the faces of the Slytherins. A deep "Ooh!" began to circulate amongst them, with many of the younger ones bursting out laughing.

"We'll send you a postcard of the victory!" another shouted. "Wish you were here, love Slytherin."

Draco turned around and continued towards the door. His cheeks burned. He could feel everyone's eyes following him like a thousand, ravenous vultures, their laughs tearing his heart and stomach into pieces.

The Quidditch stadium roared. Draco shuddered, pulling his cloak tighter and tugging his hat firmly on his head. The stadium roared again. Flying high above him in the stadium, he could see the green and red players chasing each other through the air. Which one was Potter? He considered heading back, but a couple of loitering students had already spotted him. He pushed his chin into his chest and tried to ignore them, his feet begrudgingly picking up the pace.

It wasn't much warmer inside the stadium, not at this level. The wooden steps creaked under his feet as he clattered up them. Old cloth banners that had been there for years and seen the worst of the weather hung limply on the walls.

Draco stopped, pausing for breath. He shivered and crossed over to the edge closest to the match. The boards had been ripped away, either through wind or over-zealous players. He peered out, watching his footing.

From what he could see, he was almost there. The players hung in the sky just above his head. The ground seemed so far away. His heart pounded as he stood there. The drop was so great, the pitch so wide, just as he'd imagined. He'd grown up dreaming of soaring across this pitch on his very own broom, robes billowing out behind him. He smiled and then laughed. The air whipped across his cheeks. He looked up. The players hung where they had before. They hadn't moved. The grin fell from Draco's face. Taking hold of the broken planks, he shuffled closer to the edge, sticking his head out to look up.

A single, green player was lurching violently on their broom. He squinted against the light. The broom was being dragged through the air, as if by an invisible hand; up, down, sideways… Then it started bucking, as if trying to launch its rider off the broom.

Draco's stomach turned. The green figure flailed, seeming hardly able to cling onto the broom. Draco gasped for breath, staring around him at the other players, the onlookers… Another green player flew up to try and save him, but the broom lurched higher, almost throwing him off.

Screams erupted from the stadium. Draco stared about him. Was there anything that could be done? Could he do something?

He twisted to look above him at the Professors' box. Why weren't any of them doing anything? Dumbledore was on his feet, wand drawn, but he seemed at a loss of what to do. McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, was also on her feet, shouting at anyone who would listen. But where was Snape, head of Slytherin? Draco shuffled closer to the edge. There! Muttering to himself, talking under his breath…

Draco gasped. His heart dropped. He took a step backwards and his foot slipped off the edge.

He grabbed at the broken boards. His heart jumped into his mouth. His other foot wobbled, barely hanging on. The broken planks scratched his finger tips, drawing blood. He yelled, but no one could hear this low down. Their eyes were fixed on the green player.

His foot swung wildly, trying to find the ledge. He clutched at the boards, but couldn't get a better grip. His foot found the ledge, but he couldn't get a firm grip. His arms were losing their strength. He tried to pull himself up, but couldn't. His body hung out over the pitch. His neck twisted to see the drop. Just how far was it…?

His foot slipped again, almost followed by the other one. He flailed helplessly, unable to pull himself up. "Help!" he shouted. "Help!"

No one noticed. The broom jumped higher and higher. Draco craned his neck to see Snape. He was still whispering furiously. Draco scrabbled at the board with his fingers, trying to pull himself up once more. His arms were shaking, his chest heaving. He couldn't do it.

"Draco!"

He stared into the stands. "Granger?"

Hermione emerged from the shadows. Her hair was even wilder than normal, and she was out of breath. "Draco!" She dashed towards him, slowing down as she reached the edge. "I saw you from across the stadium with the binoculars—"

"Granger! Help me! Please!" Draco's eyes widened in his pale face. "Please!"

Hermione shuddered. "I… I'm afraid of heights."

"Please!" Draco begged. "I'm going to fall!"

Hermione edged closer. The floorboard creaked. She gasped. "I… I can't…" She shook her head. "It's too high."

"P—" Draco gasped, glancing over his shoulder. His foot slipped nearer the edge. "Hermione, please!" he screamed, shaking all over. "Please help me! I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!"

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. Shaking, she reached out towards him. "Take… Take my hand."

"I can't reach that!" Draco shrieked. "You're too far. You're too far!"

Hermione grabbed at a low hanging plank. "Take it… Draco, quickly!"

"I can't!" Tears ran down his cheeks. "I can't reach!"

"You haven't tried!"

"I'm gonna fall. I'm gonna die."

"Not if you take my hand." Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself nearer. "Reach… Draco…" She stretched her fingers out towards him. Draco could feel his foot slipping.

In one desperate leap, Draco grabbed at Hermione's hand. The sudden weight dragged her towards the edge. She screamed. Draco planted his other foot firmly on the platform and pulled himself on, collapsing in a shaking heap at the foot of the stairs.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot. She was still shaking, her face pale.

Draco lay shivering and snivelling at the bottom of the stairs. "It's Snape," he said. Hermione didn't respond. "Granger. It's Snape. Granger. Hermione!"

She started, turning to stare over her shoulder at Draco. "W-what?"

"Up there," he said miserably, pointing up the stairs. "It's Snape. He's cursing it."

"Cursing what?"

"The broom."

Hermione gasped. "Snape's cursing the broom?"

"That's what I said!" A scream from the stadium made them stare back outside. "You have to stop him!"

"How?"

"I don't know!"

Hermione looked desperate. "Come with me!"

"No!" Draco wrapped his robes around him and sniffed. "I'm in shock."

"Fine," she snapped, "I'll go by myself. I'll think of something." She marched past Draco and up the stairs towards the Professors' box. Draco huddled against the stairs, listening to the screams of the onlookers. Finally, he could bear it no longer. Carefully creeping toward the edge, he looked up.

The broom was circling higher and higher. It had unseated its rider who was hanging on with one hand. Draco's heart pounded. He looked over his shoulder. "Hurry up," he muttered under his breath. He turned and stared up at the sky again.

To his surprise, the broom stopped jerking. It calmed, hanging silently in the air. The green player hauled himself up and seated himself firmly on it. A general cheer sounded from the stadium.

Draco grinned. A warm throbbing feeling grew in his chest and he let out a wild shout.

Seconds later, he heard the tripping of hurried feet on the creaky steps. Hermione rushed into view, her hair utterly out of control, a slightly mad grin plastered on her face. "Set fire to Snape's robes," she said breathlessly.

Draco laughed. "That'll show him!"

Hermione moved cautiously to join him. He gestured at a wooden bracket on the wall to hold onto. "Do you believe me now that Snape's up to something?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "He might be."

"He is." Hermione's silence made him press his point. "I went into the third floor corridor the other day."

"No!" Hermione gasped as if someone had died. "You didn't!"

"I did! There's a massive, three headed dog guarding a trap door."

"Rubbish!" Hermione snorted. "A three headed dog?"

"There was! That must have been what ripped Snape's leg."

"Draco—"

"I know it! That dog is guarding the small package that was moved from Gringotts by Hagrid on the day of the robbery."

Hermione gave him a sideways look. "By Hagrid? Who have you been talking to?"

Draco flushed. "No one," he mumbled.

"Draco!"

"Fine! It was Potter."

"Harry Potter?"

"Is there another one?" he sneered.

Hermione frowned at him. "How does he know?"

"He was with Hagrid the day he took it from Gringotts."

"Who did?"

"Hagrid!"

"Why would he do that?"

"Because it obviously wasn't safe at Gringotts and that's why someone tried to take it, you stupid mu—" Draco stopped short. Hermione's eyes brimmed. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You know," she began, "just because everything isn't as clear to everybody else as it is to you, just because you don't explain them well at all, doesn't mean the rest of us are stupid." She turned to walk away from him.

The stadium erupted in cheers around them. "Harry Potter has caught the snitch!" Lee Jordan wailed. Draco's heart dropped.

"Oh." Hermione turned back round to face him. "And you can thank me for saving your life any time you feel like it."

Draco's heart sank even further. "Thanks. Sorry. Hermione… Wait. You do believe me now though, don't you? Potter does!" She continued to walk away from him, back towards the Gryffindor seats on the opposite side of the stadium. "Wait, Grang— Hermione! It's true! Hagrid must know something. Hermione!"

"Hey, Malfoy!" A Slytherin, having descended from his seat two floors above, jeered at sight of the pale boy in Gryffindor robes. "Watching the match from down here?" He glanced towards the open hole. "A good view for one. But did no one tell you? The Gryffindor seats are over there. Those seats are reserved for losers, so you'll fit right in with them."

Draco scowled to cover up the shaking of his lower lip.

"Or let me guess," the older Slytherin continued, "did they kick you out too?"

Draco turned to leave, heading for the stairs. "Kick, kick, kick you out," he repeated, striding after him. "Kick, kick, kick!" His shoe hit Malfoy's bottom, sending him staggering forwards. The Slytherin laughed as Malfoy began to run, hurling himself down the stairs as fast as possible and out onto the frosty grass, back towards Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII

"Nicolas Flamel."

Draco glanced up. Hermione stood in front of his bed, hands on her hips. Behind her skulked Ron.

"Who?"

"Nicolas Flamel."

"So?"

"He has something to do with the package hidden in Hogwarts."

Draco closed his textbook and placed it on his bed. "How do you know?"

"I— we—" she glanced at Ron, "spoke to Hagrid after the Quidditch match. And he said that we shouldn't be asking questions, as the matter was between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

"Who is this Nicolas Flamel?" Draco asked.

"We don't know," Hermione said. She glanced at Ron. "We were hoping you could ask your dad."

Draco shrugged. "I can try." He squinted at Ron. "Why can't you ask your parents, Weasley?"

"Change of plan," Ron retorted, "they're off to Romania to see my brother Charlie. I'm staying here for Christmas."

"Alone?"

Ron stiffened. "So?"

"The point is," Hermione cut in, "We need you to ask your dad who Nicolas Flamel is."

Draco shrugged. "Alright then. But if we know who he is, will we know what it is that's hidden?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. Maybe it'll be obvious. All Hagrid said was Nicolas Flamel." She paused. "Parvati told me that Seamus told her that he overheard Pansy Parkinson telling Harry Potter that you're not taking the train back. Your dad is meeting you separately." Draco said nothing. "Is it true?"

"Yeah, so?"

Hermione straightened up. "So… Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, Ron. I'll see you both when I get back."

Draco raised his eyebrows. Ron muttered, "Merry Christmas, Hermione." As soon as she'd left the dormitory, Ron turned back to Draco.

"When do you leave?" he asked stiffly.

"Can't wait to be rid of me, eh Weasley?" Draco sneered, but his voice lacked confidence.

"No," Ron mumbled, "Just… Never mind. Merry Christmas." And he, too, trudged out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII

Lucius Malfoy slammed his cane into the floor of Malfoy Manor. Draco jumped. "My son in Gryffindor!" he exploded, "Coming home with these… these…" He stared at the red and gold crest on Draco's front.

"Nothing can be done about it now," Narcissa said quietly.

"Nothing can be done?" Lucius hissed, "Something must be done! I refuse to have a son in Gryffindor. When you rejoin in the new year you will be in Slytherin."

"Dumbledore won't allow it," Draco said.

"As if I care what Dumbledore thinks," Lucius spat, "You will be in Slytherin. No son of mine is a Gryffindor. It shames the whole family. No one in either of our families has ever been in Gryffindor."

Narcissa dropped her gaze. Lucius rolled his eyes. "Oh. _Him_."

Draco stared up at his parents. "Who?"

"Don't ask questions!" Lucius snapped. His eyes fell on something hovering by the door. "Hurry up and take these bags!" he barked.

A bony house elf sprung from the shadows. His feet patterned across the hall floor, the dirty pillowcase he wore almost falling from his narrow shoulders. He threw himself against the case until it began to slide across the floor.

"Faster!" Lucius shouted, whacking the house elf with his cane until he yelped. "I don't want to see this again until he leaves!" He waited until the house elf had left before turning back to Draco. "I assume that you have made friends with other Slytherins despite this… unfortunate event." Draco stayed quiet. "Harry Potter is in Slytherin, I hear." Draco nodded. "Did you make friends with him?" Silence. "The Flints. The O'Malleys. The Parkinsons." Draco said nothing. Narcissa looked pleadingly at her husband. "Oh for Merlin's sake," Lucius muttered. "Who have you made friends with."

Draco opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. It would only make matters worse to tell him that out of the small proportion of time he spent with others, the majority of that time was spent in the company of a Weasley and a muggle born.

Lucius smacked his cane against the floor again. "Useless!" he snarled, "What would the Dark Lord say? Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, one of his most ardent supporters—"

"Lucius!"

"His son! Nothing more than a Gryffindor." Lucius' face had moved ever closer to Draco's pale, quivering one. He straightened up sharply. Narcissa placed her hand on Draco's shoulder and pulled him a step backwards. "I knew we should have sent you to Durmstrang." He glared at Narcissa. "I told you. I told you Durmstrang would be best. This is your fault." She flinched under his words. Lucius took a deep breath. "Is there anything you want to say? Ask, even?" Lucius demanded.

Draco licked his lips. "There is one thing. We— I think… There's a name… Something about Dumbledore and—"

"Do not mention that man's name in my house!" Lucius snapped, "What can you possibly want to ask concerning him? I have already spoken to Dumbledore and he says that he won't change your house. But he will. When you return, he will." Draco opened his mouth to continue, but Lucius cut him off. "No more! I don't want to hear anything more about Hogwarts, or Gryffindor, or Slytherin, or Dumbledore, or anyone connected to that damn school! Do you understand?"

Draco's mouth slowly closed. "Yes, father."

"And take this off." Lucius stepped forwards and ripped the scarf from Draco's neck, throwing it on the floor. He turned on his heel and marched away.

Narcissa's hand slipped from Draco's shoulder. Draco span round. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I think it would be best if you went to room for a bit," Narcissa suggested, "just before we have dinner. I'll ask your father if he'll want to join, but I imagine it'll just be us." She swept away.

"I'm sorry!" Draco called after her, but she didn't turn around.

A squeaking sound behind him made him turn. The house elf was back, trying to carry three bags at once. "Get a move on with it!" Draco exploded suddenly, "And do it quietly!"

"Yes, master," the house elf croaked.

"I didn't come all the way back from Hogwarts to hear your wheezing."

"No, master. Sorry, master."

"It's not good enough!" Draco shouted. The house elf shook under his threatening glare, and apparated before Draco's eyes, taking the bags with him.

Draco's chin trembled. A tear rolled down his cheek. He smacked it away. He would find out who Flamel was, without the help of his parents, without the help of his 'friends'. He would find out himself. And when he found the package hidden in Hogwarts, everyone would take back everything they'd said. They'd be so impressed, they'd just have to put him in Slytherin. People would stop talking about the greatness of Harry Potter, and start talking about the greatness of Draco Malfoy.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and liking my story! I didn't expect people to love it as much as this and it's so exciting to get reviews! I will definitely be uploading more chapters in the future and get this fic finished! Special shout out to everyone who left a review: HuffPride, Oro Rosa, Denis Burbis, Arwengeld, elizabethrose1974 and EmmALewisS. It's so great to hear what you think of it :) Please keep on reading and reviewing, I don't plan on giving up on this one!

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Chapter IX,

Lucius Malfoy gripped his son's bony shoulder as they waited outside Dumbledore's office. Draco's face was still burning from the stares of other students drifting around the castle as his father had marched in front of him, cane tapping on the stone floors.

"Come in," came the voice from inside.

Lucius stepped past his son and waved his wand at the door. It swung open silently. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, squinting at a piece of parchment.

"Ah, Lucius," he said, glancing up at them, "back again?"

"My son will not be in Gryffindor!" Lucius snapped, getting straight to the point, "He is a Slytherin!"

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and peered past Lucius. "You can come in, Draco."

Lucius whipped round. He motioned furiously for Draco to enter. Draco shuffled inside, and as soon as he did, the door shut softly behind him.

"Lucius, I believe we have already had this conversation," Dumbledore replied calmly, " Your son is a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin."

"He has Slytherin blood," Lucius spat, "the Malfoys are pure bloods, and every Malfoy ever to enter Hogwarts has been placed in Slytherin."

"Every Malfoy for the past 400 years," Dumbledore said carefully.

Lucius stiffened. "Every Malfoy deserving of the name."

"Is your son not deserving of the name of Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows raising just a fraction.

Lucius scowled. "You know perfectly well that's not what I meant, Dumbledore."

"I think, Lucius," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat, "that your pride has blinded you. He is still your son, and you can still be proud of him, if you embrace who he is."

"He is a Slytherin!"

"Don't be blind, Lucius! The Sorting Hat has spoken, and he is a member of a true, noble house—"

"The _wrong_ house."

Dumbledore stopped. He was directly in front of Lucius. He stared straight into Lucius' blazing eyes. "Lucius," he said softly, "don't do this. Don't alienate the boy now, your own son. Don't show him hatred and prejudice when something unexpected happens. Show him acceptance and love. If you don't, you risk losing him forever."

Lucius raised his chin, his glare unchanging. "Move him to Slytherin."

Dumbledore remained still. Then, his gaze fell. He turned away, back to his desk, with a long sigh. Lucius smirked.

"No."

Lucius' face twisted. "What?"

"No." Dumbledore turned back to face him. "I will not move him. He will learn great things in that house, and if he pays attention to them, he will become a great wizard. Greater, even, than you."

"How dare you!" Lucius hissed, his gloved hand squeezing the head of his cane. "How dare you suggest that! I knew you had gone downhill, Dumbledore, but I had no idea how far or how fast. You would deny a pure blood his lifelong destiny and heritage to place him in the same dormitory as half-bloods and mudbloods!"

"I would, Lucius," Dumbledore said proudly, glancing at Draco, "in order that he become a better man than he ever could have been."

Lucius' face went white. "I have friends," he said, "in the Ministry. They will hear of this. It is unacceptable."

"The Sorting Hat will not change its mind."

"Then burn it!"

"I'm afraid the Ministry will only tell you what I have, Lucius. Only with less patience. Shocks like this come to many families."

"Shock? This is a humiliation!" Lucius strode forwards. "This has been put together by you in an attempt to ruin me! And my family! I was cleared of all involvement, the Ministry liberated me, I was under the Imperious Curse at the time, but for some of you, that's just not enough, is it? What have I done now? I bear You-Know-Who's mark but I am not his follower!" Their faces were inches apart.

"No one's accusing you of anything, Lucius," Dumbledore said carefully.

Lucius was trembling. He raised a gloved hand and pointed sharply at Dumbledore. "You will put my son in Slytherin."

Draco took a cautious step forward. "Dad…"

"Silence!" Lucius roared. He turned back to Dumbledore. "Him! In Slytherin, do it now. I want it done now!"

Dumbledore glanced at Draco's pale face. "Draco, do you know why I can't change your house?"

"But you can, you will," Lucius said desperately.

Draco's eyes jumped to the battered Sorting Hat, slumped on the shelf.

"You're in Gryffindor for a reason," Dumbledore insisted, "a very good reason. You will find out someday. Not today, but someday. Just be patient, that's all I ask."

Lucius' lip quivered. His hand curled around the head of his cane. "Dumbledore. I give you one, last chance…"

"As I give you," Dumbledore replied calmly. He nodded at the door. "I think it would be best…"

Lucius' eyes blazed. A muscle in his cheek pulsated. Then, he gave way.

"Draco, we're leaving," he hissed in a choked voice.

"May I detain Draco just one more minute?" Dumbledore's voice called from across the room.

Lucius glared at his son. "Go," he snapped, "I'll see you again in the summer." And with that, he left.

Draco approached Dumbledore's table reluctantly, hardly able to meet the old wizard's gaze.

Dumbledore watched him closely. "Draco, I know this is hard for you," he began, "but you just need to throw yourself into it. Hogwarts will embrace those who embrace it. You carve your own future, your own personality. You can either be just like your father, or you can be someone greater than him. You have it in you, Draco. Your grades are incredible, second only to Miss Granger, I believe."

Draco shrugged. "I prefer flying."

"In time," Dumbledore said gently. "But for now, is there anything you particularly want to ask me, Draco?" Draco hesitated. "Ah, yes?"

"Well…" Draco tried to think about how best to phrase it, "Something was mentioned in one of our classes, about Nicolas Flamel, and your name was mentioned as well."

Dumbledore's great bushy eyebrows rose. "In one of your classes?"

"Yes," Draco said, "and I've looked in the library but I can't find anything about him. Background research, you know. Sir." He added quickly.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Nicolas Flamel," he murmured, leaning back in his chair, "I wonder how he's doing these days. He recently celebrated his 665th birthday." He chuckled at the astonished look on Draco's face. "I'm surprised your father didn't recognise his name when you asked." Draco flushed and stared at the floor. Dumbledore nodded, understanding. "Nicolas Flamel discovered the Philosopher's Stone. Eternal life, and all the gold you could ever want." Dumbledore grinned. "Will that do for your studies or do you need more information?"

"Where is it now?" Draco asked boldly.

Dumbledore laughed. "Well that's really not for me to say." He changed the conversation. "Filch tells me he saw you and Harry acting suspiciously just before Christmas. What's going on there? Do you not like each other?"

"It's not that," Draco muttered, "he thinks he can find it before me."

"Find what?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Doesn't matter."

"Everything matters."

Draco shook his head. "The Boy Who Lived. Thinks he can have whatever he wants."

"I suspect, and please don't take this the wrong way, Draco, that you're a little jealous of him."

Draco stared at Dumbledore. "Jealous?" He snapped, but his ears were already a shade darker. "Of Harry Potter?"

"He's in Slytherin, and you're not," Dumbledore said simply. "Everybody loves him. But not everybody loves you."

"How dare you say that?" Draco spat, "I… He… Potter is—"

"He and I had a little chat over Christmas," Dumbledore said, "and I think it best that the two of you go and have some…" He paused for the right word. "Quality time." His eyes twinkled. "No more competing. Comparing notes, even. Harry isn't doing as well in his studies as you are, perhaps a little bit of background knowledge might be useful to him… And I'm sure he could teach you something too."

Something in Dumbledore's eyes made Draco stop. He stood silent for a moment, trying to work out exactly what Dumbledore meant.

"But anyway, I think you should probably be off now," Dumbledore said, "better do some unpacking. And remember, Hogwarts embraces those who embrace it. There are many secrets this old castle is dying to share with someone."

"Not me," Draco muttered, heading for the door.

"Why not you? I don't know them all," Dumbledore called after him.

"Good Christmas, Malfoy?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Fine," Draco snapped, unpacking his suitcase in the dormitory. "Yours?"

"Fine," Ron muttered, "Get any good presents?"

"None of your business!"

Ron pulled at a loose thread on the bedcovers. "And did you ask your dad about Flamel?"

Draco froze. "He didn't know who he was," he lied.

Ron hung his head. "Hermione told me I had to go through the library while I was here, just in case he didn't know."

"What did you find?"

"Nothing."

"Do you think Hermione will have found anything?" Draco ventured.

Ron shrugged. "Unlikely. Her parents are dentists."

Draco stared at Ron, who just shrugged. "Are you coming down to the common room?"

Draco paused in his unpacking. "Me?"

"Yeah." Ron rolled his eyes. "Who else is in here?"

"Why?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Because Hermione will be there."

"So?"

"She'll want to talk about Nicolas Flamel."

"My dad didn't know who he was!" Draco snapped. "Why can't you tell her that?"

Ron rose slowly from his bed. "Y'know, Malfoy," he said carefully, "you're in Gryffindor. Suck it up."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X

Hogwarts was still as frosty as it had been when he had left. The snow had all gone, but the January chill hadn't, and the open, stone corridors froze over, and the wind felt like ice. The Gryffindors still ignored him, keeping their distance at meal times, and falling quiet whenever Draco passed. While everyone else's spirits revived back in the company of their friends, Draco kept his head down, never leaving the dormitory except when necessary.

But it still took a couple of weeks before Draco managed to get Harry alone. He watched him one morning after a particularly cold charms class, heading off to the Owlery by himself, and Draco slipped after him.

"Oh, Potter," he said weakly, feigning surprise, "what are you doing here?"

"I've come to see my owl," Harry replied, a large, snowy owl perched on his arm. "Hedwig."

Draco nodded. "Ah. Actually, um… Potter…"

"Why are you here?"

"I have an owl, too," Draco said, "I was thinking of sending a letter, but… I've not decided."

"To your daddy?"

Something in his tone made Draco look up at him. Harry's face wasn't mocking, but it wasn't friendly either.

"Who have you been talking to?"

"No one." His reply was too quick.

Draco paused before going on. "Well, there was something I wanted to tell you."

"How convenient," Harry said dryly.

"It's about what's hidden in the castle."

Harry stared at him. "Underneath Fluffy, the three headed dog?"

"Yeah." Draco frowned. "Fluffy?"

"He's Hagrid's," Harry explained, "I was talking to him about… Something else, and he just came out with it."

Draco nodded slowly. "So Hagrid could tame it… for us?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. But he'd never agree to it. He just said 'Fluffy's a great, gentle beast, really'," Harry recited, "but he wouldn't tell me why Dumbledore needed him."

Draco smirked. "I know why. I know what it's guarding."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? What is it? Malfoy, tell me!"

Draco laughed. "Told you I'd have it solved first."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, taking a step towards him. Hedwig sprung off his arm and flew up to her perch. "Tell me what Dumbledore's hiding here."

"Only if you tell me what Dumbledore said to you."

Harry frowned, but then understanding dawned. "How do you he said anything at all?"

Draco grinned. "Your face, Potter, you've given yourself away already! Anyway, Dumbledore told me that we should compare notes or something."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"I don't know!" Draco retorted, "He just said I should speak to you."

"When was this?"

"Beginning of term."

"Malfoy!" Harry cried, exasperated, "That was two weeks ago! What have you been waiting for? If Snape is after whatever's under there, he could have got it by now."

"Do you mean the Philosopher's Stone?" Draco asked slyly.

Harry shrugged. "What's that?"

"It's what's hidden at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I'd guessed _that_ , thanks."

"Apparently it can give you all the gold you want and it can give you eternal life." He waited for this to sink in. Harry's reaction was exactly as he had hoped. He gasped, his eyes ready to drop out of his skull. Then he laughed.

"And it's here? In Hogwarts?"

Draco nodded. "Imagine if you could get hold of it."

Harry's eyes shone. "So, Snape's trying to live forever."

"Or just be super rich," Draco suggested.

Harry shook his head. "I know him, I know his type. He wants to live forever."

Draco was reminded again of Harry's place in Slytherin, where Snape was the head of house. "Why don't you just ask him?" he muttered, "Head of Slytherin, famous Boy Who Lived, he'd answer you."

"Snape doesn't like me."

The answer shocked Draco. "What? Why not?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know why, but when I first saw him at dinner on the very first night, my scar burned." He reached up to his forehead and gingerly touched the lightning shaped scar hidden behind his hair.

Draco shuddered. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, "but it's not good." He looked back at Draco. "We have to stop him."

"What did Dumbledore tell you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "It wasn't really tell… More showed… Except he didn't show me, not really. I found it."

"Found what?"

Harry took a deep breath. "This is going to sound stupid but… A mirror." Draco snorted. "But not just any mirror!" Harry rushed on, "The Mirror of Erised. It shows you what is your heart's deepest desire."

Draco's heart quickened. "Where is it?"

"In one of the old classrooms," Harry replied.

"Let's go," Draco said, "let's find it right now."

"Dumbledore said not to go looking for it."

"So?" Draco scoffed, "He obviously wanted you to share it with me! If we go now we can find it and see it."

"I've already seen it," Harry said.

"What did you see?" Draco asked. His tone became mocking. "What is Harry Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived, heart's deepest desire?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Leave it alone, Malfoy. If you really want, I can take you there tonight."

"Tonight?" Draco squirmed. "But what if someone sees us?"

"They won't."

"How do you know?"

"I'll meet you outside the Gryffindor common room at midnight. Don't be late."

"How do I know you'll even be there?" Draco demanded.

"Oh I will," Harry said lightly. Then his eyes narrowed. "How do I know you'll be there?"

"You can trust me, Potter," Draco said confidently.

"And you can trust me," Harry replied, "Midnight. Don't forget."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Forget. As if."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter XI

Draco squashed himself further into the plush, burgundy armchair. He hadn't sat on one of these before, and had he known how difficult it was to write whilst sat in it, he probably wouldn't have bothered. Gryffindors that passed him stared, either out of amazement or out of annoyance. Draco, facing the fire with his back to the room, ignored them.

It took him two attempts to cast the levitation spell to hold the pot of ink in the air as he scribbled on his parchment. "Hello," came a voice, full of surprise.

He twisted to see who it was. "Weasley."

"Malfoy." Ron plumped himself onto the armchair next to Malfoy's. "Not used to seeing you here."

Draco shrugged. "I thought I'd take your advice," he said shortly. Ron, despite himself, smiled proudly. "And I needed to get some work done."

Ron nodded. "Oh, of course." He sighed and looked away. "You two make me feel bad."

"About what?"

"You and Hermione. Always working away." Ron grinned. "As if I ever do any work."

"You never not do it," Draco said distractedly, dipping his quill into the ink.

"Yeah, well," Ron made himself more comfortable, "it's mostly Hermione. She's better at essays and stuff than I am."

"Hi Ron!" A voice behind them said cheerfully. Draco turned and saw a chubby boy in bright blue pyjamas hovering just behind them.

"Hi Neville," Ron said. The two of them glanced awkwardly at Draco.

"Longbottom," Draco muttered, turning back to his work.

"Malfoy," Neville mumbled, "um, Ron, I was wondering if you know where Hermione is. I was looking at Professor Snape's homework for tomorrow and… And I just can't… It's just that I spent too much time on Professor Sprout's homework; I thought I'd hate herbology at the beginning of the year, what with that lesson on the mandrakes and everything, but it turns out Devil's Snare is actually really interesting because—"

"Hermione's in her dormitory right now," Ron said quickly, "but she's meant to come down any minute. I need help with Snape's essay, too." He glanced at Draco, but he said nothing, bent over his work.

"Oh. Oh okay." Relieved he wasn't the only one struggling, Neville took the final armchair in front of the fire, and carried on. "Because… because it's quite a rare plant actually, and we're is lucky to be able to study it. They reckon it's native to Scotland. It wraps its tentacles around its victim and slowly strangles them, but—"

Ron shuddered. "I don't know I want to hear this, Neville."

"Oh. Oh well, let me just finish, it's just revision," he chirped.

Draco threw down his quill. There was no way he'd be able to concentrate if Neville was droning on incessantly.

This was exactly why I always worked in the dormitory, he thought to himself.

Neville finally finished, sitting back in his seat triumphantly. "Was there anything I missed?"

"No, no," Ron said quickly, "I'm pretty sure you covered everything, right Malfoy?" Draco gave a single, dry nod. "Very… interesting."

"I think we all know someone we'd like to see strangled by Devil's Snare now," Draco added.

Ron winced, but Neville missed the hint. "Well, it is quite a horrible way to go," he said tentatively.

Draco stared at him. "Good."

"Sorry I'm late!" Hermione flew down the stairs and burst upon them, her bushy hair sticking out at all angles. Seeing them staring, she frantically tried to smooth it down. "Here's the work on Snape's essay I did for you, Ronald," she said stiffly, thrusting it into his hand, "copy it out in your own handwriting and add a few spelling mistakes so he thinks it less likely that I wrote it."

"Her-Hermione," Neville stuttered, "Could you help me with mine?"

Hermione sighed. "You want me to write one for you, too?"

"Not write it for me exactly, I just need some help with… what to say." Neville licked his dry lips.

Hermione's face softened. "Of course, Neville." She looked about her. "Go sit on that table and I'll join you." She waited until he was out of earshot before crouching down between Ron and Draco's chairs and whispering, "Poor Neville, I don't think he understands a single word Snape says."

"Neither do I!" Ron exclaimed.

"Shh!" Hermione hushed him. "You know what I mean." She glanced at Draco. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Got a problem with that?"

She shook her bushy curls. "Do you need me to write you an essay?"

He glared at her. "I can write my own essays. I'm not like Weasley, _I_ understand it."

Ron pulled a face.

"You mean you've already written yours?"

"Yeah."

She sighed and stood up, hands on her hips. "Well, thanks for your offer to help Neville instead of me!" She marched off to where Neville sat, eagerly awaiting her help.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ignore her, she loves it really."

"I always ignore her," Draco replied.

Ron grinned. "Yeah. Me too." They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to Hermione's bossy voice instructing Neville on which words to use to make it sound as impressive, but natural, as possible.

Ron gave a heavy sigh. "Well, I'm off to bed."

"What's the time?" Draco asked, trying to be casual.

"About 10," Ron said, "D'you think you'll come up soon?"

Draco shrugged. "I'll keep going until I finish this."

Ron leant over his shoulder. "But that's not due until next week!"

Draco shrugged again. "It needs doing at some point."

"You're mad, Malfoy," Ron muttered, "bloody mad."

It was only a couple of minutes before midnight that Neville, the only other remaining person in the common room, gathered his papers together and stumbled towards the dormitory. "Night, Malfoy," he muttered.

"Goodnight," Draco replied, remaining fixed in his position until Neville had disappeared from sight. Then he leapt up, thrusting his work, quill and ink under the sofa. He crept over to the door and gently pushed it open.

There was no one there. He stepped outside, letting the Fat Lady swing shut behind him. He tip-toed to the edge of the staircase and peered over, his eyes scanning for any sight of Harry. The place was deserted. Not a single person except Draco was up.

Draco scowled. "Stupid Potter," he muttered under his breath. Of course he wouldn't show up. He never would have. He was probably hoping to lure Draco out, down the staircase in search for him and get caught by Filch. Well, I'm not falling for it, he thought, turning around to gain entrance to the common room.

"Malfoy!"

He wheeled round. Harry was standing mere feet away.

"Potter!" Draco exclaimed, "How did you get there? I didn't see you."

"Are you still coming?"

Draco nodded. "To see this mirror, yeah. If it helps us track down Snape."

"There's something I have to tell you," Harry said in a rush.

Draco shrugged. "Sure, what is it?"

Harry fiddled with the edge of his jumper. "Can you keep secrets?"

Malfoy stared at him. "Why are you asking?"

"Because if you can't I'll leave and you shan't see the mirror," Harry retorted.

Draco straightened up to his full height. "I can!"

Harry still hesitated.

"Well, come on, Potter," Draco muttered, "spill the beans; we haven't got all night."

"For Christmas, I got a gift from someone."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's usually what happens."

"But I don't know who from," Harry continued, "all it said was, that this was my father's, and now the time was right for me to have it."

"Have what?"

Harry grinned. "An invisibility cloak."

Draco's mouth fell open as Harry raised up a silvery cloth. Draco stepped forwards, reverently taking hold of the fabric with both hands. It was light, so light to lift, and felt like running water in his hands.

"Come on!" Harry whispered, grabbing the cloak back from Draco and lifting it over them.

Draco stared through the cloak. It was only thin; he could see everything almost clearly, with only a slight tinge to it.

"This way," Harry whispered, and Draco followed him down the stairs, through twisting passages and open corridors, across little patches of grass, making their bare feet damp as well as cold.

Finally, Harry came to a stop. He reached out towards the door with trembling fingers and pushed it open, throwing the cloak off as he did so.

Draco stared about him. A patch of moonlight lit up the dusty floor at his feet. His toes curled against the cold stone. The room was empty.

"There's nothing here!"

Harry shook his head. "No, there was… The mirror—" he pointed, "it was right there!"

"Not anymore!" Draco spat, "Face it, Potter, you've got the wrong room."

"No." Harry shook his head. "It was here. It was!" He rushed to the place where the mirror had stood.

Draco left the room, creeping along the corridor to the next room along. That room was empty too, and the one after that, and after that…

Harry was crouching on the floor when he returned. "It was here," Harry repeated, "look. There are markings on the floor from where it stood." He ran a hand through his messy hair, clutching at it and making it messier still. "It was here!" he exploded, jumping up and staring at the ground by his feet.

"You're making things up," Draco said.

"I'm not— there was a mirror, and it was here!" He turned to Draco. "Malfoy, please, I swear I'm not lying."

"Been sleepwalking, eh, Potter?"

"No!" Harry shouted, pushing past Draco towards the open door. He pointed back over his shoulder. "That was where the mirror was—" he turned and pointed into the corridor, "and that was where I saw Snape threatening Quirrell!"

"You saw what?" Draco stepped in front of him. "Where? Why didn't you say anything?"

Harry shrugged. "I forgot. But I saw Snape threatening Professor Quirrell."

"What did he say?"

"He was pressuring Quirrell to give him more information on the Stone."

"But what exactly did he say?"

"I don't know, I can't remember," Harry retorted.

"How can you not remember?" Draco demanded, "Were you not paying attention?"

Harry snatched the cloak off the floor where it had fallen. "It was weeks ago. If you had come and told me earlier about the Philosopher's Stone then maybe I'd be able to remember more." He strode away from Draco.

"So this is my fault?" Draco snarled, chasing after him.

"No, I was just saying," Harry snapped, "you should have told me earlier!"

"You're only just telling me about this argument now!" Draco shouted, "What about earlier, in the Owlery? Or didn't you think it was important?"

"Well, no, not really," Harry said.

"How can you not have thought that was important?" Draco howled, "It proves it even more than the Quidditch match! Snape is after the Stone!"

"Quidditch match?" Harry turned on him. "What does the Quidditch match have to do with it? My broom went out of control. I nearly fell off." He scowled. "You would have been happy."

"Maybe I would have," Draco snarled, "but it wasn't going out of control. Are you really stupid enough to think that was why? Brooms don't do that. Snape was hexing your broom!"

Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

"I saw him," Draco said proudly, "I saw him hexing it."

"No." Harry shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. He's my head of house. He might be after the Stone but that shouldn't mean he wants me dead."

"He knows that we're onto him," Draco said earnestly.

"So why attack me, why not you?"

Draco shrugged. "You're an easier target. You have enemies."

"Enemies?"

"The Dark Lord's followers," Draco said, "you killed him."

Harry shook his head again. "No. Voldemort's coming back. He's not dead."

"Still," Draco continued, "if Snape is trying to get the Stone, maybe he's a follower of the Dark Lord. He used to be. He might want you dead, you know, as revenge."

Harry thought for a moment. "I know he doesn't like me."

Draco nodded emphatically. "Exactly."

A movement behind Harry made him start. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"In the shadows."

"Filch?"

The two boys moved closer together. Draco drew his wand.

"Draco?"

"Who is it?"

Out of the shadows stepped Hermione Granger, followed by a reluctant Ron Weasley.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted. He lowered his wand angrily. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," she stuttered, drawing nearer to them, "only Neville told Ron who finally managed to tell me that he'd seen you leave the common room. We thought you might be sleepwalking so we came looking for you and we were about to give up when we heard shouts." She glanced at Ron, but he remained silent. "So we followed them and here you are." She glanced at Harry. "Potter."

"Granger. Weasley."

"I'm fine," Draco snapped.

"Oh," Hermione said, unsure of what else to say.

"You sleep walk?" Harry smirked.

"No!" Draco turned to Hermione and Ron. "So you thought you'd spy on me?"

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked. Her eyes fell to Draco's wand. "Are you duelling?"

"No!"

"Leave them to it, Hermione. Come on," Ron tugged at her arm, "Why else do two people go to empty classrooms in the middle of the night?"

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco snapped, "just because that's what you like to do."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but then froze. There was a soft meow by Draco's feet. They stared.

"Mrs Norris!" Harry gasped, taking a step back.

"Let's go!" Hermione cried, "Draco! Potter!"

"The cloak!" Draco said to Harry, "Put the cloak over us!"

"It won't cover all of us," Harry said uncertainly.

"We can try," Draco urged, stepping away from Mrs Norris and towards Hermione and Ron. "Come on! Potter, the cloak!"

"What cloak?" Ron demanded, "What's he on about? What'll happen if Filch catches us?"

"Why are you two here?" Hermione demanded again.

"Hermione," Draco snarled, "this isn't the right time!"

Mrs Norris started to follow them. They began to speed up. Mrs Norris broke into a run just as the four of them did, sprinting down the corridor.

"Give it to me," Draco panted, reaching for the cloak.

"No, it's mine!" Harry shouted back.

"Let's just stop and put it on!" Draco argued.

"No!"

"Draco we don't have time to stop!" Hermione gasped, "If we stop, Filch will catch us!"

"No, wait!" Draco grabbed hold of Hermione and Harry, forcing them all to slow down. "Potter… Get the cloak."

"There's too many of us," Harry panted, "we can't… It won't…"

"Try!" Draco tried to pull the cloak out of Harry's hands, but Harry yanked it back.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, trying to get a feel of the soft fabric.

"Is it…? It is!" Ron exclaimed in excitement, all panic gone. "It's an invisibility cloak!"

"Well done, Weasley," Draco snorted.

"They're really rare," Ron said to Hermione, "and really valuable." He stared at Harry. "Where did you get it?"

Harry shrugged. "I got it at Christmas. Apparently it belonged to my father."

"You lot!" They all jumped. Filch had appeared at the other end of the corridor. "You four!"

"Get out of here, get out!" Draco hissed, turning to run but finding his way blocked by Ron and Hermione, both frozen in fear. "Go; what are you waiting for?"

"I see you!" Filch shouted, as the four of them started to make a run for it, "No point in running now! Potter, Malfoy, Weasley, and the girl." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He's got us," Harry hissed, snatching at Draco's silk sleeve, "We might as well give up."

"No!" Draco muttered, but Harry had already slowed down. Ron and Hermione followed suit, forcing Draco to stop as well.

They stood there, shivering in the cold, chests heaving, as Filch approached, a triumphant smile on his face. "Gotcha!" he cried with glee, his squinting eyes gleaming. "There'll be detention for you! Students aren't allowed out of bed at night. School policy. I'll refer you all to your heads of houses."

Ron groaned and Hermione hung her head. Harry and Draco exchanged frantic glances.

"Where were you going?" Filch asked, leaning in too close for comfort.

"Back to our dormitories," Draco muttered.

Filch glowered at him. "But where had you come from?"

Draco scowled at him. "From our common rooms."

Filch jabbed his arm with a bony finger. "Don't you try and be clever with me, boy!"

"Draco was sleepwalking," Hermione said loudly.

Draco opened his mouth to protest again, but Ron elbowed him in the ribs.

"We went to get him back."

Filch raised his eyebrows. "Sleepwalking with a Slytherin?" Hermione fell silent. "Ha!" Filch's excitement caught in his throat and almost made him choke. "I've got you now, and I look forward to seeing you all in detention where you belong!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter XII

Harry Potter was the last to arrive at detention the following night. His green eyes moved from one Gryffindor to the other, all waiting miserably in the cold, bitter air.

Hagrid towered above them all, watching as Filch and Harry arrived, trudging through the mud.

"Alright, Hagrid," Filch called.

Hagrid nodded tersely. "Filch." His eyes passed to Harry. "Alright now, yeh can let him be."

Filch raised a skinny finger. "No going soft on these kids, Hagrid."

Hagrid tutted. "Be off with yeh! I can handle detentions; I have been fer years!"

"But no going soft," Filch repeated. He cast his eyes over the four of them one last time before turning back to the castle, muttering, "Much less than they deserve. Back in my day it would have been the dungeons, strung up by your thumbs…"

Hagrid looked down at his four charges. He gave a sigh. "Alright then," he said heavily, "this is detention, so no enjoying yerselves. There's all manner o' things in the forest: werewolves, centaurs an' all that, and unicorns. Now recently, there've been some unicorns that've been badly hurt; bin finding unicorn blood everywhere. We are gonna go in there an' find the unicorn that's been hurt. An' hopefully find what's hurting it." He hesitated. "Takes an evil soul to harm a unicorn, summat as pure an' innocent as that. Yeh know it's bad when a unicorn's been harmed."

He headed towards the forest, gesturing for them to follow him. A large dog leapt up from the grass and bounded after him, giving a loud bark as it did so. Draco jumped. "Is this really safe?"

"Safe?" Hagrid asked. He chuckled. "Where'd be the punishment if it were safe?"

"Scared?" Harry muttered in his ear.

"Never," Draco snapped. "You, Potter?"

"You wish."

"Come on now," Hagrid called, "Hurry up!"

They passed the first line of trees into the forest. Draco shuddered. "This is… this is barbaric," he muttered, "what kind of detention is this? Didn't Dumbledore say at the beginning of the year that we were to keep out of the forest? Why do you think it's called the Forbidden Forest? It's forbidden!" He tripped over a root, and Ron tried not to laugh. "This is ridiculous!" Draco spat, "No normal person gives this sort of detention to first years! Catching a unicorn killer? That's for trained professionals, not us! My father—" He stopped short.

"Cut yer whinin', Malfoy," Hagrid said, "Yer no Gryffindor, whinin' like that."

"I didn't want to be a Gryffindor," Malfoy said sulkily.

"Why, even Harry's doing better," Hagrid said.

"And why shouldn't I?" Harry asked. "Living with the Dursleys makes you grow something of a thick skin. You can't live with them if you're easily scared." He glanced at Draco.

"I'm not easily scared, Potter," Draco snapped, "I just didn't have a traumatic childhood."

"Quiet, you two!" Hagrid said suddenly. He stopped and dipped his finger into a glistening substance on the ground. "Unicorn blood," he muttered, "still fresh. We're gettin' close!" He turned to look at them. "Ron, Hermione, come with me. Harry, Draco, you two take Fang an' go that way."

"Fang?" Draco asked.

Hagrid pointed at the large dog. "He's a wimp really, jus' looks intimidating."

"Why can't I come with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

Hagrid shuffled his great feet uncomfortably. "I need ter… keep an eye on Ron an' Hermione."

"But Hagrid," Harry tried again.

"No, no." Hagrid shook his head, pointing in the direction he'd sent them. "Don't argue with me now, Harry. That way. Go on. Go."

Draco tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Come on, Potter. Let's get this over with."

Draco took the lamp from Ron and led the way, determined to prove he wasn't scared. "Come on, Fang," he called, and then muttered, "you lolloping, great beast."

"Why didn't Hagrid take me?" Harry asked.

Draco took his eyes off the uneven ground long enough to glance at Harry. "Maybe he doesn't like you either. Not many people do."

"But he did, we…" Harry glanced over his shoulder. "We got along. He took me from the Dursleys."

"Maybe he doesn't like you anymore," Draco suggested, "you are a Slytherin after all."

"Why should that matter?" Draco didn't say anything. "Why does it matter what house I'm in?"

"How can you think it doesn't matter?" Draco asked incredulously, "It determines who you talk to, what friends you make, your connections, your career… Everything!"

"Just because there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin…" Harry mumbled.

"They weren't bad," Draco said firmly, "most were under the Imperius Curse. They had no choice."

"No choice in what? What did they do?" Harry asked after a few moments. "What did all these witches and wizards in Slytherin do that was so bad that now that's all anyone ever remembers the house for?"

"They sided with You Know Who."

"But what did they _do?_ "

Draco fell silent. "I don't know."

"That's a lie!"

"I don't know!" Draco repeated, his voice shrill, "Tortured people, wore masks, did whatever the Dark Lord told them to— I don't know! Most of them had no choice, they were under the Imperius Curse. If they didn't torture these people, they would be tortured themselves." He shuddered.

"Is that what happened to your father?" Harry asked softly.

Draco kept his eyes fixed on the path in front of them. The light from the lamp illuminated it just enough to see the dirt, piles of leaves and stray roots that threatened to trip him up again.

"Yes. He didn't have a choice."

"That's not what I've heard others say."

"Well that's the truth!" Draco snapped.

They both fell silent.

"Who would want to kill a unicorn?" Harry asked after a few moments.

"Do you ever shut up?"

"But who?"

Draco shrugged. "Unicorn blood has a lot of useful properties."

"Such as?"

"It can keep you alive," Draco said, "even if you're just about to die. But the Ministry have made it illegal to trade."

"Why?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Why do you always ask stupid questions?"

"They're not stupid," Harry replied, "just because you're not smart enough to know the answers."

"I am smart!"

"I bet Granger would know the answer."

Something caught Draco's eye. He stopped. "Look." He pointed. "Unicorn blood."

Harry bent down to look at it. It was a thick, silvery substance.

"And there!" Draco pointed again. Harry jogged to catch up.

"But don't you see?" he asked Draco, "If unicorn blood can keep you alive—"

"Only for a short time."

"That doesn't matter! It could keep someone alive long enough to steal something that could make them live forever." Draco stared at him, realisation dawning on his face. "I knew it!" Harry cried. "I knew Snape wanted to live forever!"

"But he's not dying, is he?" Draco asked, "It won't extend your lifespan if you're already fit and healthy, only save you from death."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe Snape is trying to sell the unicorn blood to someone?" But it was a half hearted suggestion, and they both knew it.

Fang whimpered. "What is it, mongrel?" Draco asked. Harry winced. "What's wrong?"

"My scar…" Harry's hand touched his forehead, "It hurts."

"No one cares about your stupid scar," Draco snapped, "scars don't hurt."

He squinted, trying to see through the darkness. His foot landed in something warm and wet. More unicorn blood. And lots of it, at that. "We're close!" he gasped, his heart beginning to pound. If they found the unicorn, would it be alive? If not, would the thing that killed it still be there? Draco stumbled forwards, Harry a few paces behind. Fang gave a sudden yelp, and raced off.

"Oi!" Draco shouted, "Come back! Come back here! Stupid dog."

Harry staggered after him. "Malfoy… Malfoy, wait!"

Draco ignored him. "Come on, Potter," Draco called, marching ahead, "Don't tell me you're scared now!" He looked up.

The unicorn's pale, lifeless body was stretched out along the path, blocking their way. Draco froze. A hooded figure was bent over the unicorn. As he stared, the hooded figure raised its head, blood dripping from its mouth.

Draco's heart leapt into his mouth. He stumbled backwards, knocking into Harry. They both fell.

The lantern danced from Draco's hands. He heard Harry gasp next to him, felt his hands clawing at his robes.

Draco scratched at the dirt, trying to pull himself towards the lantern that had fallen just off the side of the path. But with Harry holding onto his robes, he couldn't reach it. "Potter, let go!" he hissed.

"Malfoy…" Harry choked, "the thing…"

"Thing? What thing? The lantern? Yes, I'm trying to but—"

"Snape!"

Draco's head jerked round. The hooded figure had risen and was gliding towards them. Draco panicked, trying to kick Harry to get him off. "Potter, get off me! I need to get the lantern!"

"Malfoy!"

"Get off!"

"It hurts!"

"Let go! We need to run!"

The figure was drawing closer and closer.

Draco kicked Harry in the stomach, forcing him to let go. He scrambled further forwards on his elbows, managing to grab the lantern before clambering to his feet.

He'd run just a few paces when he heard Harry scream. He stumbled to a halt, his heart pounding ready to burst his rib cage. He glanced over his shoulder.

The hooded figure was heading straight for Harry. Harry lay writhing on the dirt track, unable to get up.

"Potter!" Draco shouted. And then again, "Potter!"

His hand moved instinctively and he drew out his wand, although he couldn't think of a single spell. He brandished it frantically, hoping something might burst out the end and hit the figure in the chest. Draco could feel his feet beginning to trip backwards, desperate to carry him away. "Potter!"

Harry's body stopped writhing and became motionless. Draco's heart hammered against his rib cage. "Potter? Potter!"

The figure was still ignoring him, focused only on Harry. It swept forward, falling softly in front of Harry. Draco raised his wand, but panic clouded his vision. He could hardly see them. His hand trembled. The figure reached out towards Harry's head…

A sudden movement made Draco leap out of his skin. Something crashed out of the bushes surrounding them and charged at the hooded figure.

With an ear splitting shriek, the figure reeled backwards, gliding rapidly off into the darkness.

Draco slowly lowered his wand, still shaking, as the half-man, half-horse crouched over Harry. Draco crept away, before breaking into a run back along the path they had come.

He could see Hagrid, Ron and Hermione drawing closer. "Draco!" Hermione recognised him from far off, her eyes wide with fear. "Where's Potter?"

"Where have yeh _been?_ " Hagrid demanded as Draco finally stopped. "Fang came back all by himself." He raised his head and looked around nervously. "An' what was that noise?"

Draco opened his mouth to try and speak, but fear still gripped him.

"Come on, boy. Speak!" Hagrid shouted at him.

"Wait, Hagrid!" Hermione ordered him, "Draco needs to catch his breath." She reached towards Draco, who stumbled backwards. She saw the wand clutched in his hand. "Draco," she said slowly, "what happened? Where's Potter?"

"Here," Ron said, suddenly catching up, "why've you got your wand out?"

Draco shook his head furiously and took another step back. "Stop! He's… He's that way!" He pointed with his wand. "A figure… with a hood… and blood! It was drinking the unicorn's blood!"

"What?" Hagrid gasped.

Draco nodded. "And Potter…" He shuddered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"An' you left him there?" Hagrid roared, "With some beast drinking unicorn blood? Why you little toad, you! Gryffindor, my beard. Yer should've bin sorted into Slytherin, after all!"

"Hagrid!" Hermione cried.

Draco glared up at him. "I don't need you to tell me which house I should have been in! I never wanted to be in Gryffindor!"

"Draco!" Hermione grabbed his arm. He tried to pull away, but she clung on. "Where's Potter?"

"A centaur took him."

"Where?" Hagrid demanded, "I know the centaurs. I can talk to 'em. Harry's just a boy!"

Draco flailed his arm in the vague direction.

"Stay here," Hagrid said firmly.

"What?" Ron whimpered, and Fang whined.

Hagrid hesitated. "Oh, alright then." He gestured for them to follow him. "But be careful now!" He glanced at Draco. "Malfoy, clean yerself up. Yer even dirtier than usual."

It was several minutes before they found Harry and the centaur. Hagrid blamed Draco for not staying and supporting Harry, while Hermione begged him to be quiet and Draco sulked behind her. But at long last, they found them both. The centaur was helping Harry climb off his back.

"Harry!" Hagrid called.

Harry's robes were slightly lopsided and his hair was messier than normal. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled wanly. "Hagrid."

"What happened teh yeh?" Hagrid demanded, his face bright red, "we've bin worried sick!"

"I'm fine," Harry replied.

"Hagrid," the centaur said softly.

"Firenze," Hagrid replied, "how are yeh?"

"This forest is no longer safe," Firenze said in his slow, lilting voice, "there is magic in here darker than you know." He nodded at Harry. "This boy is not safe here."

Hagrid nodded emphatically. "I know, I know that now."

"No." Firenze shook his head and turned away, but said nothing more.

Two more centaurs burst into their little clearing, their hooves kicking furiously. "Firenze!" One of them roared.

"Bane. Ronan," Firenze replied.

"Did I see you with a human on your back?" Ronan cried. Firenze bowed his head in acknowledgement. Ronan's back legs kicked into the dirt. "We are not to be ridden by humans!"

"He is no ordinary human," Firenze said, "he is the Potter boy. Have the planets not told you all of their secrets? Do you not know why that unicorn was killed?" He pointed at the silvery body slumped in the bushes.

Ronan shook his head, his chestnut flanks heaving. "You are not a common mule, Firenze!"

Firenze's legs lashed out in rage. Hagrid drew the pupils closer to him.

"Do you know nothing?" Firenze exploded, "You see so much, yet understand so little!" And with that, he galloped away. Ronan cursed in anger, storming off in the opposite direction. Bane turned to Hagrid. "Keep these students away from here. Away from the herd."

Hagrid nodded. "Right yeh are, Bane." He crouched down and looked Harry in the eye. "Are yeh alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Fine." He touched his scar.

"Yeh sure?" Hagrid prompted him, his black eyes scanning his body anxiously. "Not hurt or anythin'?" Harry shook his head. "No? Alright then, bes' be headin' back." He straightened up and gestured for them to follow him. "Keep close now!" he ordered them, "Don't want any more nasty surprises."

As soon as they started to move, Draco pressed close to Harry. "What was that? Was it Snape?" Harry opened his mouth, but struggled to find the right words. "You were there!" Draco hissed, "You saw him! He was closer to you than me."

"It wasn't Snape," Harry said firmly.

"Are you sure?" Draco insisted, "Slithering about like that, it might have been."

"It wasn't Snape," Harry repeated, "Firenze told me, as he helped me onto his back, that if you drink the blood of a unicorn, you live a half, cursed life. And surely death is better than a cursed life, right? Unless you're just trying to live long enough for something that will enable you to avoid death entirely."

Draco's eyes widened. "The Philosopher's Stone!"

"And there's only one person," Harry continued, "who would do such a thing. Someone who is only just clinging on to life…" His green eyes met Draco's blue ones.

Draco's throat went dry. "No. He's dead. He died."

"I don't think so."

"He did," Draco said, "His followers… They would know if he was still alive."

"Maybe they do," Harry said urgently, "maybe Snape is one of them." Draco hesitated. Harry glanced at the others walking in front of them, and lowered his voice. "The other Slytherins say that your dad fought with Voldemort in the Great Wizarding War," Harry whispered, "did Snape? If anyone knows what side Snape was on, it'll be you."

Draco nodded. "He did. I'm sure of it. He was on You Know Who's side."

Harry nodded. "Then it's him. Snape. He's letting Voldemort drink the unicorn's blood in the forest to keep himself alive long enough for Snape to get the stone."

"What are you two talkin' abou'?" Hagrid called over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Harry said, but their guilty faces betrayed them.

"Did I hear yeh say what I think I heard yeh say?" Hagrid continued, "What stone?"

They both remained silent. "Potter, Malfoy!" Hagrid stopped walking and glowered at them. "Answer me!"

"It's nothing," Harry tried again.

Hagrid raised one, large finger and pointed it at him. "Don't yeh tell me what is an' what isn't nothin'. Now tell me, what stone?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Hermione's voice rang out from behind Hagrid.

He straightened up. "The what stone now?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Harry muttered.

"It's a stone with alchemical properties," Hermione began.

"I know what it is!" Hagrid burst out, "The question is, how do you?" They all fell awkwardly silent. "Who've yeh bin talking to?" he demanded.

"No one," Draco said, "and that's the truth of it. I saw Snape have his leg mauled by that… that beast guarding the trapdoor."

"What beast?" Hagrid snapped. "If you mean Fluffy—"

"Fluffy?" Ron snorted.

"Yes, Fluffy," Hagrid repeated, "wouldn't hurt a soul. But Harry here already knows that. An' judgin' by the unsurprised expression of Mr Malfoy here, he knows it too!"

The two boys shifted uncomfortably.

"Draco. Why didn't tell us?" Hermione asked.

"I only found out this morning!"

"Well that's jus' splendid!" Hagrid muttered, trudging onward through the mud, "So yer all in on it. An' what right do yeh think yeh have, meddlin' in this business?"

"Snape is going to try and steal the stone!" Harry said desperately.

Hagrid snorted. "Codswallop! Snape try an' steal the stone! I don't think so, not when he helped protect it!"

"Snape protected the stone?" Draco asked, jogging to keep up with Hagrid's enormous strides.

Hagrid frowned, glaring into the bushes around him. "That's none of yer business, Malfoy. Nor any o' yours, neither!"

"Hagrid," Harry called, running up to the half giant's side, "Snape is trying to steal the stone for— Didn't you see what happened tonight? That figure, bent over the unicorn?"

"I didn't see a figure over the unicorn."

"Firenze rescued me from it," Harry said, "it was drinking its blood, getting a cursed life just long enough to use the stone to have eternal life. And who do we know who has nothing to lose but everything to gain? Don't you see? Snape is stealing the stone for Voldemort!"

Hagrid stopped suddenly, causing Hermione and Ron to crash into him. He gave a mad laugh, and turned to face Harry, his face suddenly becoming grave. "You Know Who is dead."

"You don't believe that," Harry said, "the very first day I met you, you told me you didn't believe that."

Hagrid shrugged uncomfortably. "Harry, You Know Who isn't in Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore would know. You Know Who can't get through here without someone knowin' somethin', an' trust me, Dumbledore would be the first."

Harry shook his head. "He's wrong. We've seen it. The evidence adds up. Voldemort is here, drinking unicorns' blood to stay alive while Snape steals him the stone!"

Hagrid took a deep breath. "Harry, an' this goes fer the rest o' yeh, too, yer messin' in things that don't concern yeh." Harry looked away. "Dangerous things," Hagrid continued, "that stone is well protected. No one, least of all Professor Snape, is getting past it, even if they wanted to. What happened tonight… If you, Mr Malfoy here, an' Firenze are to be believed, then yer life was put at risk tonight. D'yeh think yer parents— yer mother— would be pleased with yeh meddlin' in this." Hagrid shook his head. "This is far beyond yeh, Harry." He glanced at them all. "Far beyond any o' yeh. Now promise me, promise, yeh'll stop meddlin' around. Stop poking yer nose where it don't concern yeh. Trust me when I say that that stone is well protected. Promise me yeh'll leave this whole matter alone."

Harry hesitated. "I promise."

Draco kept silent, standing just of Hagrid's view.

Satisfied, Hagrid straightened up. "Let's get back."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter XIII

Months had passed since their detention in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione and Ron refused to talk about the Philosopher's Stone these days, especially now it had hit exam season, with the typical amounts of stress, sneezing and uniform disarray that no one but Hermione seemed to be immune to. But Draco found he couldn't stop thinking about it. He would get distracted from his revision notes, thinking about where Snape could be, what he could be doing, his various plots for getting the stone, whether he already had it, and if not, how long would it be before Quirrell gave into his threats?

Ron squirmed in his seat. Hermione glared at him, but said nothing. The three of them were sat in the common room of the Gryffindor tower. Hardly anyone else was in, the reason why they were still there, as the day was too bright and warm for normal students to be spent indoors. "What are you two doing?"

They both jumped at the sound of his voice, and looked guiltily at each other.

"Nothing," mumbled Ron.

Draco gave him a scathing look. "Don't lie to me, Weasley," Draco said calmly, "there's something wrong."

Hermione and Ron exchanged frantic looks again.

"It doesn't matter," Ron said, "it's all fine."

Draco turned to Hermione. "What's going on?" His eyes widened suddenly. "This isn't to do with the Stone, is it?"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly, "not that." She glanced around nervously, even though there was no one around. "Come with me," she hissed, putting her books down and marching to the door.

Draco stared at Ron as he, too, put down his things and reluctantly followed Hermione outside. Draco chased after them.

"What's this about?" But neither of them answered until they reached one of the courtyards.

"Hagrid," Hermione said finally.

Draco shrugged. "Yeah? And?"

"Don't you think he's been acting odd, lately?"

Draco glanced at Ron. "No… Do you?"

"Yes!" Hermione sighed. "His beard is at least 5 inches shorter than it was, his clothes have twice as many holes and patches and he has burns all over his hands. There's something not right."

Draco shrugged. "So he's too poor to have decent personal care. What does that prove?"

Hermione sighed again. "But haven't you noticed? Sometimes he looks a little… singed."

"Singed?"

"Yes. Like… like he caught fire or something."

"So he's playing with fire. So what, Hermione? He's the gamekeeper."

Hermione flounced away. "I don't believe this," she said, "first Ron, now you."

"Hey!" Ron cried, chasing after her, "I believed you."

"But it took you a week!"

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

"To see Hagrid," Hermione retorted. Draco groaned.

"No, Hermione. No," Ron said, trying to catch her arm, "let's just leave it. He'll be alright."

"I'm going to find out what's happening once and for all," she snapped, "and neither of you two can stop me!"

Draco and Ron stared at each other. "This is ridiculous!" Draco cried, snatching at Hermione's arm. "It's probably nothing!"

Hermione laughed. "It's probably something." She shrugged. "But don't come if you think you can't handle it." She wrenched her arm out of Draco's grip.

"I thought we weren't supposed to meddle in other things," Draco said sulkily.

"That's different," Hermione said, "that was about the Philosopher's Stone. This is about Hagrid. We can't leave him alone."

Draco scowled. "He won't want us involved," he called after her, but she kept on walking.

The boys exchanged irritated looks again. "Come on," Draco said to Ron, turning back towards the castle.

Ron hesitated. "Shouldn't we go with her?"

Draco snorted. "Not likely! Who cares about a great, hairy oaf like Hagrid."

Ron glanced at Hermione. "She does."

"So? She's not like us. She's not from a pure blood Wizarding race."

Ron shook his head. "I'm definitely not coming with you if you're gonna talk that pure blood crap, Malfoy." He began to stride after Hermione.

Draco stared after him. His pride had been hurt. Deserted by both of his… companions. But at the same time, he didn't want to be left out again. It was obvious that the two of them got on better with each other than either of them did with him. Draco kicked the ground. "Fine!" he muttered to himself, stalking after them.

Hermione climbed the steps to Hagrid's hut quickly. Even though the sun was beating down on the school grounds and all jumpers and ties had been abandoned in favour of looser shirts and sunglasses, the shutters of Hagrid's house were tightly closed, blocking out all light.

The door opened just an inch as Ron and Draco caught up, out of breath and red faced. "Oh," Hagrid mumbled, seeing them standing there, "I… I can't talk now… Why don't you come back later?" He tried to shut the door but Hermione put her full weight against it.

"Hagrid," she said, "let us in."

Hagrid shook his head. "Really not a good time right now."

Hermione pushed harder, and Ron and Draco jumped up to help her. "Hagrid," she said firmly, "now!"

A noise from inside the little cottage made Hagrid turn around. He hesitated, but couldn't refuse her. Reluctantly, he stepped to one side.

The wave of heat from inside the house almost knocked them back out again.

"Blimey, Hagrid!" Ron gasped, "You setting up a sauna?"

"How can you live like this?" Hermione asked, as Draco began to choke, "Why don't you open a window?" She stepped forwards to one of the windows.

"No!" Hagrid cried, his arm reaching out to block her. They stared at him. "No," he muttered, lowering his arm, "can't do that."

"Why not?" Draco demanded.

"Shut the door, would yeh?" Hagrid snapped.

"No!" Ron exclaimed.

"Don't argue!" Hagrid retorted, "If yeh want teh find out, yer've got teh shut the door."

Reluctantly, Draco closed the door.

"All the way!" Hagrid said nervously.

"You have to tell us what this is about," Hermione said to Hagrid, "you can't keep hiding away."

"What's with the windows being shut?" Ron asked, wiping his face with his shirt.

"Promise yeh can keep a secret?" Hagrid asked.

"What's that noise?" Ron asked, craning to see past Hagrid.

"It's nothing!" he cried quickly, "jus' promise me yeh can keep a secret!"

"Of course we can," Draco snapped, the heat finally getting to him, "what is it?"

Hagrid glanced at the others who nodded in agreement. He shuffled to one side. On the floor, curled up on a somewhat burnt blanket, lay a dragon.

Its wings were thin and spiky, whereas its body was slim and curved round into a small ball the size of a quaffle.

They stared first at the dragon, then at Hagrid.

"Hagrid!" Hermione gasped,

"You're hiding an illegal dragon!"

"Well…" Hagrid stuttered.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco exploded, "If the Ministry finds out—"

"The Ministry's not goin' to find out!" Hagrid retorted.

"That's a Norwegian Ridgeback," Ron said, inching nearer to the sleeping dragon, "they're incredibly rare." He puffed his chest out proudly. "My brother Charlie works with dragons. In Romania."

"No one cares, Weasley," Draco said, "we're not in Romania, we're in England, where it's illegal to breed dragons, and your brother isn't here."

"It'll be fine," Hagrid said, running his fingers through what remained of his beard, "no one else knows yet. 'Part from the fella who sold me the egg."

"Is that why your beard's so much shorter?" Draco asked.

Hagrid stared at him. "Yeh didn't notice, did yeh?"

"Hermione," Draco said as she gave a rather loud squeak.

"Someone sold it to you?" she gasped.

"Yeah." Hagrid grinned. "A couple o' weeks ago, not long after your detention in the forest."

"Who?"

Hagrid shifted in his seat. "Dunno. Couldn't see his face."

"Didn't that strike you as odd?" Hermione asked.

Hagrid shook his head. "Yeh get all sorts in the Three Broomsticks."

"Who cares who bloody sold him it!" Ron cried, "What are we going to do now we've got it?"

"We?" Hagrid scowled. "He's mine. Norbert."

"Norbert?" Draco gave an exasperated sigh, "Of all the names and you pick Norbert?"

"Hagrid, you can't give it a name!" Ron said, "You'll get attached!"

"He's mine," Hagrid repeated firmly, "I'm keepin' him!"

"You can't!" Hermione said, her voice shrill. Hagrid shushed her. "It's illegal," she said, lowering her voice, "if anyone finds out, you could be sacked."

"No one's goin' teh find out."

"That dragon will grow to be three times the size of hut," Draco said, "in hardly any time at all."

"You live in a wooden house!" Hermione said desperately, "Hagrid, can't you see this is mad?"

Hagrid crossed his arms. "Plenty o' folks do it."

"Not all of them live in wooden houses and are the gamekeeper at Hogwarts," Ron said, "set it free. Release it into the forest."

Hagrid snorted. "What? With that thing killin' all the unicorns? Oh, no."

"You can't possibly keep him," Hermione said.

"Well I can't release him," Hagrid said, "he's still little. He might get hurt."  
"Someone else might get hurt," Draco muttered.

"No one's going to pick a fight with a dragon," Ron said.

"He'll be fine," Hermione reassured him.

"Who was this person you bought him off?" Draco asked curiously.

"I've told yeh, I don't know," Hagrid said firmly, "some guy in the Three Broomsticks."

"And you thought it'd be a good idea to buy a dragon egg from him?" Draco sneered.

Hagrid drew himself up. "I've always wanted a dragon," he said, "always. Ever since I was a kid. An' he had the egg right there in his pocket."

"In his pocket?"

"Might'a bin some dragon dealer, fer all I know," Hagrid said defensively, "First, he thought I mightn't be able to handle him, but I said that a dragon would be easy after Fluffy."

Draco suddenly felt his stomach drop. "Was he interested in Fluffy? A great, slobbering, three headed beast?"

Hagrid scowled. "If yeh got nothin' nice teh say, Malfoy, I suggest yeh say nothin' at all. An' yes, he was. How many three headed dogs d'yeh get round here? Didn't yer father tell yeh they're rare?"

"I'm sure Fluffy's lovely," Hermione said loudly, glaring at Draco.

"He is!" Hagrid declared, "So sweet an' simple. All yeh gotta do is play him some music and he'll drift right off teh sleep." All three of them stared at him. Hagrid's eyes widened in horror. "No," he gasped, "no! Forget I told yeh that! I didn't say anythin'!"

Draco glanced at Ron and Hermione, their faces anxious. "Did you tell that to the dragon dealer?"

Despite the sweltering heat, the colour drained from Hagrid's face. "Well I… I might'a… said summat…"

Ron stood up abruptly and bolted for the door. The dragon stirred on its blanket.

"Shh!" Hagrid shushed them desperately.

Draco and Hermione collapsed out after Ron. His face was white. "You know what this means?" he panted, the clear skies and open air a sudden relief to all of them. Draco breathed in deeply before nodding. "Snape knows how to get past Fluffy. He's waiting to steal the Stone."

"Oh!" The boys glanced at Hermione, her eyes round with dawning understanding. "I've only just realised! How could I have been so stupid? It's the exams, I've been thinking of them… and Hagrid told us not to meddle—"

"What is it?" Draco demanded.

"Hagrid said that Snape helped protect the stone. And so did Hagrid. Which means that each teacher must have helped. There must be one obstacle, or barrier put in place by every teacher that aims to stop someone from stealing the Stone!"

"But if Snape was involved in protecting it, then he must know all the other protections," Draco said.

"Not necessarily." Hermione breathed deeply. "You remember Harry Potter told you that he overheard Snape and Quirrell arguing? What if Snape was threatening Quirrell because Quirrell's enchantment was the only one he didn't know? What if that's the last piece left for Snape to get, and once he knows that, what's stopping him from going in and getting the Stone? How do we know he hasn't gone after it already?"

Ron's face paled even more, but Draco shook his head. "If Snape had already stolen it, we'd know."

"So that means," Ron said slowly, "that Snape doesn't know Quirrell's spell."

"But if he's only threatening Quirrell, that means he knows all the others," Draco said.

The three of them shared worried glances. "We have to tell Dumbledore," Hermione said, "if the man who gave Hagrid the dragon egg was Snape in disguise, then he already knows how to get past Fluffy. To be honest, it's a miracle he hasn't tried again already."

Draco nodded. "Let's find Dumbledore. Now."

"Professor!" Hermione almost tripped over as they burst into Professor McGonagall's classroom. "Professor!"

"What is it, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, starting at their sudden entry. "What are the three of you doing together?"

"Professor," Draco gasped, "We have to speak to Professor Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore?" She frowned. "But why? Whatever for?"

They glanced nervously at each other, but it was Draco who spoke first. "It's about the Philosopher's Stone."

McGonagall's thin lips tightened. "How do you know about that? Who told you?"

"No one," Hermione said quickly, "but we need to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

"He's left Hogwarts."

"What?" Ron and Draco cried.

"He's not here," McGonagall said, staring at their faces, "he had an owl from the Ministry of Magic and left for London on a broom about ten minutes ago."

"No," Draco muttered, his heart sinking.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" McGonagall asked, peering closely at him.

"We think Snape's going to try and steal it."

"What?" Professor McGonagall's mouth fell open a little. She quickly recovered herself. "That is an extremely strong accusation, Mr Malfoy." She glanced at Ron and Hermione. "Don't tell me you two believe him?" They nodded mutely. "Well," McGonagall gasped, "I must confess, I don't quite know what to say." They looked up hopefully. "Apart from the fact that I am shocked that any of you would believe Professor Snape capable of such an act!" She glared down at them. "What a disgusting claim to make. I'm ashamed of you. You, Mr Malfoy, for making such a claim, and you two for believing him. Mr Weasley…" She hesitated for a moment before giving Ron a dismissive look and rounding on Hermione. "You, Miss Granger. I expected better from you." She gathered up her books and swept towards the door. "What a disgusting claim. Fifty points from Gryffindor! Now I want to hear no more of this nonsense or anything about the Philosopher's Stone from you three ever again. Am I quite understood?"

"Yes Professor."

"Good!" And with that, she strode off.

"Fifty points!" Ron moaned. Draco kicked the leg of a desk.

"Never mind that," Hermione said, "what are we going to do?"

"What is there to do?" Draco asked sulkily.

Hermione flicked her hair out of her face. "McGonagall might not believe us, and Dumbledore might be gone, but that doesn't mean Snape won't steal the stone!"

Ron nodded. "You're right. As usual…"

Draco stared at her. "Yes. Yes! Dumbledore is gone! With Dumbledore out the way, Snape might try for the Stone." His eyes gleamed. "He's going to try tonight! And we have to be ready for him!"


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: So the story is beginning to wrap up now! Thanks to all of you who've read it all this far from the beginning, you're honestly amazing! I know it's turned out really long! Keep reading and hit the review button if you have time, I love any and all reviews!

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Chapter XIV

The three of them met in the common room, armed with their wands, thick jumpers and woolly slippers. "What's this?" Draco asked, jabbing Ron's stomach which was covered in a sickly maroon jumper emblazoned with the letter R.

Ron groaned. "My mum. She knits us all jumpers."

Draco started to laugh, but Hermione hit him. "Be quiet, Draco! Someone might hear."

"No one's around," he started to protest, but fell silent at her glare.

"Is this a good idea?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied firmly.

"Do you have to do this now?" Draco hissed.

"Honestly, you two," Hermione snapped, tugging on their sleeves, "let's just go."

They started to head out of the common room, when a voice from the fireplace startled them.

"I won't let you go!"

They span round. "Neville?" Ron gasped.

Neville got to his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching in a nervous sort of way. "You… you can't go. Sneaking around the school after dark. It's not right."

"This time it is," Hermione said gently.

"No!" Neville said, moving to block their way out.

"Get out the way!" Draco snapped, "Longbottom. I'm warning you. Step aside."

"I… I won't let you bully me, Malfoy."

"I'm not bullying you," Draco snarled, "just get out of the way!"

"You'll get Gryffindor into more trouble."

"I don't care, I didn't want to be in this stupid house anyway! I don't care what happens to it."

"But we all live with your… trouble you cause," Neville said firmly, his hands balling into fists once more.

"Well maybe you blood traitors deserve it!" Draco hissed through his teeth.

"We're losing time!" Ron muttered to Hermione.

Hermione stepped forward. "I'm really sorry," she said.

"You don't agree with him?" Neville's eyes widened in horror.

"No, Neville, no, I don't. Only, this is important." She took a deep breath. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Neville's arms and legs snapped together. His body went rigid and he toppled like a plank flat onto his face. Hermione rushed to turn him over. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered, before dragging the other two after her and out the common room.

"Good shot," Draco muttered.

"You." Ron gave him a hard shove. "What was that about blood traitors?"

"Ron! Leave him alone. We don't have time for this." Hermione set off down the stairs.

"Was it something about my family?" Ron demanded, "Well listen here, Malfoy, I'd rather be a Gryffindor blood traitor than a slimy death eater git like you."

Draco shoved him back. "Don't talk about me like that!" he snarled, "Just because my father was under the Imperius Curse during the war!"

"Imperius Curse?" Ron smirked. "Is that what he told you?"

Draco seized a fistful of Ron's jumper and slammed his back against the stone banister. Ron let out a cry of pain.

"Draco!" Hermione's voice was louder than intended. "Get off him!" Draco glanced at her, but didn't let go. Ron was breathing through his teeth like a dragon, straight into Malfoy's face. "Let him go!" He didn't move. "We don't have time for this. Snape might already be playing to Fluffy. We don't have time to waste. You two can sort this out later."

Draco's fists tightened.

"She's right, you know," Ron said.

"Shut up, Weasel!" Draco snapped. Ron's face flushed, but he held his tongue. With a final, rough shove, Draco let go of Ron's robes.

"Now, come on!" Hermione hissed as portraits lent forward to glare at the three of them making so much noise, "We've wasted too much time already. First Neville, now you two."

"Did you hear what he called us?" Ron muttered darkly.

"The both of you shut up!" Hermione snapped, "Sort it out later."

It felt like hours before they reached the third floor corridor, although it couldn't have been any longer than five minutes. Hermione produced her wand.

"Did anyone bring any music?" Ron asked dryly.

Draco's stomach fell. "Maybe Snape left his playing."

Ron glared at him. "You don't really think that, do you?"

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed, "I'm tired of you both already! If you can't be civil to each other then go back! These enchantments are designed so that not even powerful wizards could pass through. They could be dangerous. We have to be prepared. Getting along with each other is a lot less painful than death."

Ron glared at her. "I seriously doubt it."

"Be quiet, Ron!"

"Malfoy!" The three of them jumped violently, wheeling round to see who it was.

"Potter," Draco spluttered.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, staring at the green tie wrapped around his neck.

"I could ask you the same question."

They glanced at each other. "We think Snape's going to steal the Stone tonight," Hermione said.

"Because he sent an owl to Dumbledore saying he's needed at the Ministry." Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. I overheard him telling McGonagall. So, who brought an instrument?"

"An…" Ron started.

"Yes, Weasley, an instrument," Harry snarled, "to play Fluffy to sleep. I guess none of you." At the silence he rolled his eyes. "Well lucky for you, Hagrid gave me this a gift." He produced a rough wooden flute from his pocket.

"Can you play something on that?" Draco asked doubtfully.

"I can try," Harry answered, "it's more than you've got." He nodded at Hermione. "Open the door. Slowly!"

Very slowly, Hermione opened the door.

"It's awake," Ron muttered, peering inside. The three enormous heads of Fluffy sniffed, their ears twitching, sensing their presence.

Harry stepped forwards. Placing the wooden flute to his lips, he blew a father tuneless melody. Even though the notes were shaky, Fluffy's heads drooped slightly, and soon enough, the dog was on the floor, dozing.

Draco, Ron and Hermione edged forwards. They grabbed the ring of the trapdoor and pulled. "His paw," Hermione whispered.

"I'm not moving it!" Ron gasped, "Make Malfoy do it."

"No," Draco replied, "let the Weasel do it."

"I'm not doing it!"

"Oh, you two are hopeless!" hissed Hermione, bending down and carefully lifting the heavy paw off the trapdoor. Then, the three of them lifted the door and peered into the hole.

"Where's the bottom?" Ron asked.

"Maybe there isn't one," Draco suggested, "maybe it's a bottomless pit."

Harry motioned frantically for them to go. "We need to go now," Hermione whispered, the only one who had noticed.

"I'm not bloody going down there!" Ron muttered, "What if it really is a bottomless pit?"

"You'll just have to tell us when you reach the bottom," Draco said, and promptly gave Ron a hard push. He fell straight through the hole, and a few seconds later called up, "It's a soft landing."

Draco gestured for Hermione to go next. With a quick look at the three headed dog, she jumped. Draco turned to Harry who was edging closer and closer, still playing the flute. Draco jumped. Air, cold and bitter, raced past him. He landed on something springy and soft, yet slightly damp.

"What is this?" Ron asked.

Draco struggled to get to his feet. A bark from above them signalled that Harry had jumped, and a few moments later he landed next to Ron. "What's this?" he echoed.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno."

"Oh!" Draco gave a cry of horror, staggering and stumbling to a damp stone wall, clinging on with his nails, his feet just out of reach.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"The floor," Draco panted, "it's not… It's a plant."

Hermione suddenly let out a little squeak.

"Alright Hermione?" Ron asked cautiously.

"I can't… I can't move," she said.

Ron and Harry tugged at their arms, but to their horror, realised that they were already bound in thick, green tendrils.

"Devil's Snare!" Hermione gasped as a tendril slithered across her chest.

"What?" Harry choked.

"Devil's Snare," Hermione squeaked, "we did it in herbology… But I can't remember…"

"I've heard of it," Ron burst out, "but I can't remember where."

"In herbology!" Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"No," Ron said as the plant began to squeeze his chest, "I didn't pay attention that lesson. Somewhere else…" His eyes caught Draco's. "Do something!"

Draco pulled out his wand. "I… I don't know."

"Hermione!"

"I can't… I can't think…" she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as another tendril snaked around her neck. "Draco hurry up!"

Draco's mind whirred. He felt like he was spinning. The dampness of the walls was going through his jumper and pyjamas, making his skin cold and clammy. "Damp!" he cried suddenly, "Dark and damp! Lumos!" The light filled the dark chamber, illuminating the Devil's Snare. It formed a large, hammock like bed stretching from wall to wall, with tendrils hanging from the ceiling.

Instantly, the Devil's Snare began to shrink, releasing Ron, Hermione and Harry. They scrambled to their feet and hastened over to the door near Draco.

Ron stopped just before he went through. He and Draco looked at each other. "Thanks," Ron muttered, rubbing his throat.

Draco shrugged. "I couldn't have left you there."

"Yeah I know, then you'd have no one to bully."

Draco grinned. "Exactly." Ron smiled.

"This is all very touching, but if you could get a move on," Harry said, poking Ron in the back, "I'm still stood on it."

They entered a large room which appeared empty at first glance. "What's this about?" Harry muttered.

"Look up!" Hermione said, and they all stretched their necks back to stare at the ceiling. Just above their heads hung hundreds of keys, bobbing through the air.

"Do those keys have wings?" Draco asked, reaching up to grab one.

"This door," Ron said, bending down to study the lock, "we need to get the key that fits this lock."

"But there's hundreds!" Harry gasped.

Ron shook his head. "Silver, I'd say. And big, old fashioned."

Draco glanced uneasily behind him. "Still no sign of Snape."

"He might already be ahead of us," Hermione said.

"Look!" Harry cried, "A broom!" The other three glanced at each other. "What?"

"No, nothing," Ron said, "go on. You're the best flyer in the room."

"What about me?" Draco whined, "I fly well. Just as well as Potter, here."

Harry shrugged. "But you're not the youngest seeker in a century." He hopped onto the broom and took off.

Draco scowled, but slunk over to the door where Hermione and Ron waited with baited breath as Harry soared into the air. "Do you think he'll be alright?" Hermione asked.

Ron laughed. "Hermione, didn't you hear him? He'll be fine!"

"If there's another task with a broom, I'm doing it," Draco grumbled.

"I see it!" Harry called suddenly. He pointed his broomstick and the key and shot forward, almost crashing into the wall.

Ron and Hermione winced. "I hope he's okay," Hermione said.

"I hope it broke his nose," Draco muttered.

Ron glared at Harry as he took another dive. "Isn't he just the smarmiest git you've ever met?" He glanced at Draco. "'Cept you, of course. But without him we wouldn't have known about Hagrid having Fluffy, or about You Know Who."

"We wouldn't know Hagrid at all, really," Hermione admitted.

"Or that Hagrid moved the stone from Gringotts to Hogwarts on the day he took Potter to Diagon Alley," Draco added.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. But imagine coming here alone." He paused for a moment. "What a stupid git. No wonder he's in Slytherin."

Draco turned to say something but a sickening crunch made them look up. Harry's body was pressed against the stone wall, his hand trapped awkwardly, but he shouted, "I've got it!" Quickly, he descended and ran to jam the key into the door.

"Be careful, don't drop it," Hermione said frantically, checking over her shoulder for any signs of Snape, "Do you think he's definitely coming tonight?"

"I think he's already been," Harry said grimly, "this key has already been caught before us."

As soon as the door was open, Harry let go of the key, which fluttered back up to the ceiling, looking somewhat forlorn. They all bundled through the door, tripping over each other's feet.

"Get out of the way!"

"Move over!"

"Where are we?"

"You're standing on my foot!"

Suddenly, the place was illuminated with light. They were at the edge of a chess board, behind the black pieces.

"Let's go!" Draco cried, breaking into a sprint across the board. But as he reached the other side, the pawns straightened up and barred his way. Draco looked to his left and right, but the board spanned the entire room. "There's no way past!" he cried.

"We have to join them," Ron said, gazing up in awe at the pieces towering above them, "all of us!"

"How?" Harry asked.

Ron paused. "I'll be a knight. Hermione, you be a bishop. Potter, that rook over there, and Draco, be the queen."

Draco scowled. "A queen?"

"Yes," Ron snapped, "because you're a drama queen."

At his words, the four black pieces left the board.

"Er… Weasley," Harry said as he took the place of the rook, "is this… Wizard chess?"

Ron stared at him. "What other chess is there?"

"Only, in the muggle world," Harry said, "the pieces don't move on their own. And they don't… well they don't knock each other out."

Ron glanced down at the board from his position atop the black horse. "I guess we'll find out," he muttered.

A white pawn stepped forward two spaces. Ron took a deep breath. This wouldn't be easy.

The other three watched as he sent the pieces across the board, nimbly rescuing them whenever they were in danger and he himself taking as many pieces as he dared. But Harry's question was answered when they lost the other knight. The white queen advanced, her face blank and unfeeling. With one tremendous blow she knocked the rider clean off his horse, and then dragged them both to the side.

"Wizard chess," Harry muttered.

Ron swallowed, his face pale. "Had to do that. Sacrifices have to be made."

The white pieces never relented, never showed mercy. Of the black pieces, some were knocked over, some were smashed, but each blow delivered was more vicious than the last.

Suddenly, Ron muttered, "We're almost there."

"Are you sure I'm safe here?" Draco asked, surrounded by towering white pieces.

"No," Ron replied, "as soon as I move, that rook could take you." Draco paled. "But he won't."

"Why do you have to put _my_ life in danger?" Draco howled, "Why not Potter's?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Quiet!" Ron shouted, "It doesn't matter. We're there."

"But we haven't won," Draco protested, "this isn't checkmate."

"It will be," he said, "Hermione, move three paces to the left after I've been. Then you'll have won." He gritted his teeth. "As soon as this is over, you all go through. You have to catch Snape. Don't stay with me. And don't move from your squares!"

"Why would we stay with you?" Hermione asked, her voice shrill, "Ron. What are you doing?"

He took a deep breath.

"There has to be another way," Harry called, suddenly realising what was about to happen, "Wait!"

But Ron had already moved forwards. The white queen turned her blank face to his. She moved forwards and raised her sword.

Hermione screamed as the blow cut across the black knight, shattering the horse in two. Ron fell, hitting his head hard against the floor. The white queen dragged him away and left him slumped by the side of the board.

Hermione gathered herself and walked the three paces until she stood in front of the King. His sword toppled and crashed to the floor. Then the chess pieces bowed and stepped aside to let them pass.

"Will he be alright?" Hermione asked desperately, staring back at Ron.

"He'll be fine," Draco said, but his stomach twisted. "Come on. Let's keep going."

"Maybe someone should stay with him…"

"He'll be fine, Hermione. Let's just go."

They stood in front of another door. Draco took a deep breath and opened it. A horrible stench hit them, sending them reeling. Pulling their jumpers over their noses, they crept past an enormous troll, twice the size of the one on Halloween, until they reached the other side of the room. Once they were out, Harry said, "Thank Merlin he was still knocked out."

A small table stood in the centre of the room. As soon as they crossed the threshold, purple fire sprang up behind them and black fire barred the other door.

Hermione darted forwards and snatched up a piece of paper on the floor.

"Is it real fire?" Harry asked Draco, "Or just there to scare us?"

Draco reached out gingerly. A shooting pain raced through his hand and up his arm. He gasped in pain, snatching his hand back. A nasty red line shot from his palm up his jumper sleeve and stopped just at his neck.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" Draco screamed, clawing at Harry, "It hurts! My arm!"

Harry panicked. "Granger!"

Hermione span round, beaming. "It's a riddle!"

"A little help," Harry said, as Draco fought back tears.

Hermione marched over to them. "Draco, it can't be all that bad."

"It is," he whimpered.

"Listen," she said suddenly, her face grave, "it's bad news. One potion will get us through the purple fire, and one will get us through the black." She pointed at each of them.

"But that's only enough for one person each," Harry said.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I know."

"I have to go through," Harry said, "if Voldemort is taking the stone, I need to stop him. He killed my parents."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who by now had quietened down.

"I want to go through," Draco said, "my father—"

"At least you have a father," Harry snapped. Draco fell quiet, clutching his arm and groaning.

"But he can't come this way," Hermione said, picking up the bottle to get her through the purple flames, "There's still only enough for one."

"Don't want to, anyway," Draco said sulkily, clutching his arm.

"I have to face Voldemort!" Harry insisted.

"I could face him," Draco snapped, "he knew my parents."

"I want to go!"

"No!"

Harry snatched up the smallest bottle. "Did you say this one, Granger?"

"Yes…" she said cautiously, "but if I drink this and you drink that, Draco will be left behind."

"Don't leave me in here!" Draco pleaded, clutching his arm which had already swollen to twice its size.

"Granger, go back to Hogwarts, get help," Harry ordered, "Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, anyone!"

Hermione looked desperately at Draco's pale face. "I'll bring help," she said, "you won't have to stay here forever."

"Don't leave me!" Draco cried again, taking a swipe at the potion in Hermione's hand, "I'm in pain. I should go."

"Forever the wimp," Harry sneered, "desperate to retreat to safety instead see the fight through to the end. Why did the Hat place you in Gryffindor? Everyone's got it right, haven't they? You should never have been sorted there!"

Draco went white. "I am brave," he said, but his voice was quiet and hoarse.

Harry looked him up and down. "You don't act it. Whining to go back because your arm hurts."

Hermione stared at them with disbelief. "Not you as well!" she exclaimed, "Draco, we're leaving you here because Potter needs to face You Know Who—"

"I could do that!"

"And I need to go and help Ron! You couldn't move him with your arm like that."

"I can try!"

"Look, we don't have time to argue!" she snapped, "You'll just have to trust us!"

"Trust you?" Draco wailed, "No! I don't want to be left in here on my own!"

"We'll come back for you," Hermione said, "I promise."

"Hermione… Hermione, no. Wait, please!"

But she had already drained the vial. "I promise, Draco," she repeated as she stepped back through the purple flames and disappeared.

"This is all your fault!" Draco rounded on Harry, "I wish you had never come!"

"Then you would never have got past Fluffy," Harry replied, "I had the flute."

"There's probably a charm," Draco muttered. His eyes fell to the tiny bottle in Harry's hand. Suddenly, he lunged for it, almost knocking it to the floor. Harry sprang back just in time, saving the contents from spilling.

"Careful!" he shouted, "Bloody Gryffindor! If that's what you really are."

Draco's arm felt as if a thousand knives were stabbing in and out of his veins. He staggered, almost crashing into the bottles that remained. "I am… brave," he gasped.

Harry glared down at him. "Keep telling yourself that, Malfoy. Maybe one day it'll work. Did for me. Ask your father if it ever did for him."

Draco writhed, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open. "Don't talk about my father, Potter!"

Harry shrugged simply. "At least you have one," he said again. He raised the bottle to his lips and downed it in one. He shuddered.

Draco watched through failing eyes as Harry dropped the bottle on the floor and passed through the black flames.

As soon as he was gone, Draco let out a cry of agony, his feet lashing out and his hands clawing at his clothes, at the floor, at anything he could reach. He seized one of the remaining bottles and threw it at the black fire with another scream. The fire leapt up, blacker than ever, towering above him.

His head swam. Any second now, and he would pass out. Any second. He tried to look at his arm, swollen from his palm to his neck, with one, long red scar that stood out from the rest of the skin, pulsating with the pain.

Draco gave a long, shuddering gasp. His head fell back against the cold floor as the pain in his arm and neck built and built, as though a bomb was exploding from the inside, tearing through his flesh. Any second… the world was already going black.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter XV

Draco slowly opened his eyes. They still felt sore. He blinked a few times until things began to come into focus. The arched stone ceiling stretched high above him. Chandeliers laden with candles bobbed through the air. Draco started. Where was he? The stone… Snape…

He looked to his right. Dumbledore. The old wizard was leaning back in a chair, an amused expression on his face. "Please relax, Draco. Madam Pomfrey will have me kicked out, otherwise."

Draco stared about him. "Is… Is this the hospital wing?"

"It is." Dumbledore looked around. Neatly made beds lined the walls. Behind Dumbledore, a curtain had been pulled across. He noticed where Draco was looking. "Harry Potter," he said simply.

"What happened?" Draco asked, "What happened to me? What happened to him?" A sudden panic flooded through him. "Snape! The Stone! He's using it to bring back the Dark Lord."

"Relax," Dumbledore said again. He gave an amused smile. "Snape?"

"Yes, he was after the Philosopher's Stone."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh no, my dear boy. It was Quirrell who was after the stone."

Draco frowned and rubbed his head. "Quirrell?"

"Yes." Dumbledore sighed. "Voldemort had used him as a human host, being no more than a shadow ever since the night, well…" He nodded his head at the curtain. "He must have met him while on his travels. Voldemort used Quirrell's body as a host, hence why he had the turban."

"The turban?"

"To cover Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrell's head."

Draco's face was one of horror, but Dumbledore seemed unperturbed. "I believe you and Mr Potter saw Quirrell— the ever faithful servant— drinking unicorn's blood in the forest on the night of your detention."

"We did, sir. Yes." Draco nodded, but his head throbbed.

"I suppose you're wondering if he ever got hold of the stone?" Dumbledore asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "No. No, he didn't get it. I found Mr Potter one night sitting and staring into a dusty old mirror in one of the unused classrooms."

"Yes, we went to find it," Draco said, struggling to sit, "but it wasn't there. Someone had taken it."

Dumbledore gestured for him to lie back down. "That someone was me, I'm afraid. You see, I hid the Stone inside the mirror." He beamed, thoroughly pleased with himself.

"How?"

"I suppose you know that the Mirror of Erised shows only the deepest desires of your heart? Someone wanting to use the stone for their own gain would simply see themselves surrounded by gold, or living forever. Only someone who wanted to find it, but not use it, could obtain the stone."

"And that wasn't Quirrell," Draco said slowly, "or the Dark Lord."

"But it was Harry," Dumbledore said.

"But if Potter could get it," Draco said, struggling to understand, "wouldn't Quirrell just have taken it off him."

"Oh, he tried," Dumbledore said, "but there is powerful magic between Harry Potter and Voldemort. As long as Quirrell hosted Voldemort, he could not touch Harry. Doing so caused him excruciating pain, boils and blisters breaking out all over him. Which reminds me, how is your arm?"

Draco looked down at it for the first time. A red scar, less prominent and far less swollen remained. "It doesn't hurt as much," he said.

"Good. We found you passed out on the floor of Snape's potions task. Did you try and get through the fire?"

Draco nodded. "What was that fire?"

"A very powerful enchantment," Dumbledore said, "involving poisonous flames."

"We?"

"Miss Granger and Mr Weasley met me just as I returned. I sensed the owl I had from the Ministry wasn't as genuine as it had first appeared, and came straight back. Just in time, too." He beamed. "Some would say you have all been very stupid."

"I know," Draco mumbled.

"Whose idea was this?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know."

"Draco."

He bit his lip. "Potter's. It was Potter's idea."

Dumbledore's eyes studied him very closely. Draco stared at the white covers. "Very well," Dumbledore said at last. He gestured at a collection of sweets lying on the table at the edge of the bed. "Not quite as many as Mr Potter has," he acknowledged, "but a healthy amount, nevertheless. Or should I say unhealthy?" He smiled at Draco, but he wasn't listening. "You know, Draco," Dumbledore said, perching on the side of his bed, "it's never too late to do the right thing. To tell the truth. Sometimes, telling the truth takes all the courage in the world, and very little is as valuable as that."

Draco remained silent. So did Dumbledore. And then…

"It was my idea."

Dumbledore nodded. "I thought as much."

"It was my idea. It was my fault."

"No one's blaming you, Draco," Dumbledore said, surprised.

"I put everyone at risk," Draco muttered, "Ron…" His head snapped up. "Ron!"

"Perfectly safe, I assure you," Dumbledore replied, "Mild concussion, hardly worth Madam Pomfrey's time."

"And Potter?"

"Oh, he'll recover," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "it's your arm we're worried about. There was strong poison in those flames."

"I've ruined everything," Draco said miserably.

"No, no," Dumbledore said.

"I have! And I thought it was Snape. How could I have been so stupid? Hermione and Ron wanted to leave it alone, to not get involved. Hagrid told us to leave it. But I pushed it. I made them listen and come with me. I put them all in danger. And I was _wrong_. After all that. It was Quirrell."

"Without you," Dumbledore said, "we might never have gotten there in time. The enchantment I put on the mirror was strong, but could have been broken with enough dark magic."

This didn't seem to console Draco. He kept his eyes on the covers by his feet.

"And I only said some people would find it stupid," Dumbledore continued, helping himself to one of Draco's chocolate frogs, "most other people would find it brave." Draco turned his face away. "Have you adjusted to your house?" Dumbledore asked, struggling to get the wrappings undone, "I see you, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley seem to get on well."

"They're not my friends."

"You don't have to listen to your father. You can be your own person. You have shown great courage, Draco, no matter what you say or think. The Hat placed you in Gryffindor for a reason. Maybe you don't think you're brave now. But maybe the Hat put you there to teach you to be brave. Because it realised that bravery is the quality you desire above all else." Dumbledore pulled out his wand and cast a spell at the chocolate frog. With a pop, the wrappings undid themselves, and Dumbledore seized the frog before it could jump away.

"It won't change anything," Draco mumbled, "I'll go home and life will just carry on as normal. My father won't accept that I'm in Gryffindor! He won't allow me to be friends with a Weasley and a… a muggle born. Nothing will change."

"Everything will change because of this," Dumbledore said, "everyone will see that you are an asset to the Gryffindor house." He finished the chocolate frog. "Hold on for Hogwarts, Draco. The summer may be long and hard for you, but hold on for Hogwarts. This will always be your home. Where you can be yourself. Where you can express your feelings; your anger, your pain, your joy. Where you can become the person that you want to become." Dumbledore peered at the card through his half moon spectacles. "Ah!" he said, a smile stretching across his face, "It's me." He frowned. "Not a very flattering portrait though. Who makes these cards?" He turned it over. "Ah look, Nicolas Flamel. Now you've heard of him you'll find him everywhere. The Philosopher's Stone…"

"Where is the stone now?" Draco asked.

"Oh, destroyed," Dumbledore said lightly.

"But… Nicolas Flamel…"

"Has enough to set his affairs in order and then he and his wife shall pass away in peace." Dumbledore smiled. "The next greatest adventure is death, is it not? I expect they'll welcome it gladly."

Dumbledore got up to leave. But he paused. "We'll expect you on the Gryffindor table for the end of term feast," he said sternly, but there was a twinkle in his eye, "don't think you'll get out of that one."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter XVI

Draco followed everyone into the great hall, the excitement in his chest building. His arm had mostly recovered by now, although Madam Pomfrey expected that he would always have a faint, red scar from the irreversible effects of the potion. Above them, hung the green and silver banners of Slytherin, the house cup champions for the seventh year in a row. A feeling, of longing for the return of things that had never been, came over his heart. But he fought it off. These were things that had never been. And never would be. He had to live in the moment.

He found Hermione and Ron and rushed to join them. Hermione threw her arms around him, delighted. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us see you," she said, "how have you been? How is your arm?"

"A little painful," Draco said, trying to milk the sympathy while it remained.

"Still bandaged up? It's a wonder Madam Pomfrey let you out," Ron said.

"She didn't want to," Draco confessed, "but Dumbledore insisted I come."

"'Course he did, mad old duffer," Ron grinned.

"Did you hear it was Quirrell?" Draco asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, "Not Snape."

Hermione nodded. "Dumbledore told us everything while Madam Pomfrey treated Ron after his blow to the head."

"I was fine, really," Ron muttered, but he looked pleased that his injury hadn't been forgotten.

"And everything that happened to Harry Potter."

Draco glanced around nervously. Ron grinned again. "Everyone knows. It was meant to be a secret, but… well. See for yourself."

Draco looked around him. Everywhere people were talking about the events of the other night.

"Harry Potter had to use a broomstick to catch it."

"Devil's Snare. Apparently it tried to kill them!"

"Some old mirror I think…"

Draco smiled. "It's all anyone can talk about," Ron said. He blushed a little. "I've already had an owl from mum and dad saying how proud they are."

Draco's mind suddenly returned to his family. His heart sank.

"How's your arm, Malfoy?"

Draco started and stared up into the nervous face of Neville Longbottom. "Longbottom," he said in surprise. He looked down at his arm, still wrapped up in a cast. "Yeah, fine. Good, I guess. Hurt a bit when Hermione squeezed me earlier but…" He grinned.

"Good," Neville said with effort, "I'm glad to hear it's getting better."

"Uh… Sorry." Draco could hardly look at him.

"For what?"

"For… getting really angry at you. And at Ron. For calling you both… blood traitors."

"That's okay," Neville mumbled, "you… you were angry. You didn't know what you were saying."

Draco took a deep breath. "No, I did know. And I'm sorry."

A small smile appeared on Neville's face. "Th-thanks, Malfoy."

"Draco."

"I… I'm Neville."

Draco smiled. "How were your results, Neville?"

"G-good. Well, I did pretty badly in potions but I made up for it in herbology."

A sudden, sweeping silence fell over the hall. Harry Potter appeared in the entrance. Everyone stared. Neville quickly scurried off to find a seat as whispers broke out and eyes followed Harry to his seat at the Slytherin table.

"That was very good of you, Draco," Hermione said, ignoring Harry's entrance.

Draco shrugged. "Just something Dumbledore said. About doing the right thing."

"Look at him!" Ron scorned, unable to do as Hermione had, "Look at his swagger. We did the hard work! Just because he's the Chosen One. Draco defeated the Devil's Snare, I won the chess game, Hermione worked out the potions riddle."

"Potter got us past Fluffy," Hermione said.

"Probably a charm for that," Ron grumbled.

"And he caught the flying key."

"Draco can fly just as well as him. What's so special about him anyway?"

"He is the only person to have survived—" Hermione began.

"I know, I know!" Ron snapped, "You don't have to lecture me on everything." He turned to Draco. "But really, he couldn't have done it without us."

"Well, hello there, you three." Draco turned around. Hagrid stood over them, smiling down proudly.

"Hagrid," Ron said, "how are you?"

"Oh, well… yeh know." Hagrid shrugged. "Dumbledore made me get rid o' him," he explained to Draco, "Norbert." He took a deep breath. "I'll always remember him."

"Sent him to my brother Charlie in Romania," Ron said proudly, "he works with dragons." Hagrid sniffed. "He'll take of him."

"Aren't you fired?" Draco asked.

"Draco!" Hermione scolded him.

"No." Hagrid smiled gratefully. "Dumbledore said I could stay on. That's what he did for me before, when I was expelled, and now he's done it again. Great man, Dumbledore. In my opinion, one o' the greatest wizards ever to live."

"When you were expelled?" Draco asked. Hagrid stiffened. "Why were you expelled?"

"Uh…" Hagrid glanced around him. "Well, to be honest with yeh, I don't talk about it much. Rather not. Maybe another time, we'll see. Oh, and I'll ask yeh all ter keep this dragon business to yerselves. 'Specially from yer father, Draco."

Draco nodded. "I will."

The room suddenly fell silent again as Dumbledore appeared and made his way to the professors' table. Hagrid smiled at them one last time and made his way to his seat. "Well," he said, taking in the scene, "another year over. And what a year! Hopefully you've learned some useful things in your time here, and will spend the rest of your summer forgetting them." A ripple of laughter broke out amongst everyone except the other teachers, whose faces became very still and fixed. "Now, for the house cup." A premature cheer came from Slytherin. "In fourth place, we have Gryffindor, with three hundred and twenty two points—" Ron groaned, his head falling onto the table, "in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty two points; in second, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty points, and in first place, congratulations to Slytherin, with four hundred and twenty two points."

The Slytherin table cheered, many of them jumping onto their seats and pulling faces at the other houses.

"However," Dumbledore said, raising his voice above the din, "I believe that, due to the past events of the few days, of which everyone is aware, a few more points are in order. Firstly, to Ronald Weasley."

Ron did more than blush this time. His face went a bright shade of red, and then purple. He froze in his seat. "For the most outstanding game of chess Hogwarts has seen, I give Gryffindor fifty points."

The Gryffindors cheered, clapping Ron on the back. Hermione hugged him tightly, and across the table, Draco caught Ron's eye and grinned.

"Secondly." The room went silent. "To Hermione Granger. For her excellent use of clear logic when faced with deadly fire, as I'm sure Mr Malfoy will affirm—" some laughter, "I give Gryffindor fifty points."

Hermione seemed to swell with delight, her face bright and beaming, before hiding her face in her arms as the Gryffindor table screamed. They were one hundred points better off.

"Thirdly," Dumbledore gave a little smile, "to Harry Potter." A hush fell over the hall. Heads swivelled from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherin. Ron groaned. "For his tremendous calm and sheer resourcefulness in the face of great peril. I give Slytherin fifty points."

Slytherin cheered again, louder than before. People slapped Harry on the back.

"And I thought we were getting somewhere," Ron muttered.

Draco's heart sank. Had Dumbledore ignored him? Forgotten his contribution? Was this his punishment for dragging them through all that danger, without a thought as to what could happen to them. He turned away.

"Fourthly." The great hall fell quiet. Who else could be awarded more points? "To Draco Malfoy." The Gryffindors didn't make a sound. "For the bravery he has shown in telling the truth and taking the blame, and the bravery he has yet to show in standing up for himself. I give Gryffindor fifty points."

The Gryffindor table erupted. Draco froze. He went pale, and then bright red. People swarmed around him, patting him on the back and congratulating him. Even the Weasley twins came over and ruffled his hair.

"We're equal with Slytherin!" Ron squeaked, his voice as high as Hermione's, hardly able to contain his excitement. "Why couldn't he have given us just one more point?"

"And finally," Dumbledore said, his eyes alight and sparkling, "although it takes a good deal of courage to stand up for yourself, and a great deal to stand up to your enemies, it takes even more to stand up to your friends. For Neville Longbottom, I give Gryffindor ten points."

Mrs Norris, standing outside the Great Hall, jumped violently at the explosion of noise that occurred. The Gryffindors had leapt out of their seats, screaming and hugging one another. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had also joined in, delighted that a house other than Slytherin had won the house cup for a change.

"We've won! We've won!" Ron shouted, "Dumbledore's only gone and let us win!"

Despite himself, Draco laughed. He smoothed his hair down with his good hand, which only invited the twins to mess it up even more.

"A change of decoration is in order!" Dumbledore cried above the noise. He clapped his hands and the green and silver hangings melted into red and gold. The image of a giant serpent twisted and writhed into the image of a proud lion, standing rampant above the hall. Dumbledore clapped his hands again, and the feast began.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: So this is the last chapter of The Right Thing To Do! I've loved writing it and reading all the reviews and seeing what you all think of it. It's taken me more than enough time to get it completed (sorry for the long waits between chapters) but I've been planning more and more things that I've started working on now. Be sure to stick around, hit follow, and see all the stuff I've been planning and writing that I can't wait to share with you!

Thank you so so so much for sticking it out this long, all the way to the end. It really does mean so much to me! Thank you!

* * *

Chapter XVII

Draco stepped onto Platform 9 3/4 with Hermione and Ron by his side, holding onto the last piece of Hogwarts he still had.

"What a year!" Ron exclaimed as they queued to leave the station through the ticket barrier. "The Philosopher's Stone being hidden in the school, Quirrell almost stealing it, and us saving the day." He grinned.

"Ron," Hermione scolded him, "we hardly saved the day." But there was a small smile on her lips even she couldn't hide.

"You'll have to come visit," Ron said, and then, "both of you."

Draco stared at his suitcase. "I don't think so."

Ron bit his lip. "Yeah. Sure."

"I…" Draco tried to explain.

"Don't worry about it," Ron said, "honestly. I know your dad's not exactly…" But words failed him.

"We'll write to you," Hermione offered.

Draco smiled feebly. "That also might not be a good idea."

Hermione frowned. "Your dad is strict, isn't he?"

Their turn approached them. The ticket officer held them back for a moment, so the muggles wouldn't suspect anything of hundreds of children bursting out of a wall all in one go.

"Well, good luck, Draco," Hermione said, "I'm glad I've met you, after all. Don't let your holidays make you grumpy for the start of term."

"She's right," Ron said, "it's been a… weird year, but it's been alright."

Draco nodded. "I'll try."

"We'll always be your friends," Hermione reassured him.

"If you need us," Ron said.

The ticket officer waved them through and they burst into Kings Cross Station.

"Ron!" A plump witch with bright red hair rushed over to him, "How are you dear? Are these your friends?" She smiled at Hermione and then her gaze fell on Draco. She gasped.

"Come on, mum." Ron dragged her away.

"Is that…? You're not…? Lucius Malfoy's son? Ron!"

From a distance, Draco caught a glimpse of pale, white hair. Through the hustle and bustle of the station, one noise came through louder than any. A tapping of a cane. Coming closer, and closer.

"Draco," Hermione started to say to him.

"See you next year," Draco mumbled, and pushed his trolley towards the towering figure of Lucius Malfoy. His heart sank, wishing he'd been able to say goodbye properly. But he didn't dare even look back.

If he had, he might have seen Hermione raise her chin a little, fighting the urge to shout after him that she hoped he'd be alright over the summer. Her eyes darted through the crowd, past the muggles and finally she saw Lucius Malfoy. He, too, looked at her. For a second, they held eye contact. Hermione gritted her teeth.

Lucius turned away. "Come along, Draco," he hissed, pushing his son forwards with the head of his cane, "let's get out of here."


End file.
